OPIE  READ'S 

l~>  SELECT 
WORKS 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER 


OPIE  PEAD'S 
SELECT  WORKS 

Old  Ebenezer 

The  Jucklins 

My  Young  Master 

A  Kentucky  Colonel 

On  the  Suwanee  River 

A  Tennessee  Judge 

Works  of  Strange  Power  and  Fascinatioa   ; ; 

Uniformly  bound  in  extra  cloth, 
gold  tops,  ornamental  covers,  un 
cut  edges,  six  volumes  in  a  box, 

S6.00 

Sold  separately,  $1.00  each. 


:  - 


OPIE  READ'S  SELECT  WORKS 


My  Young  Master 


A    NOVEL 


BY 

OPIE  READ 


Author  of    "The   Carpetbagger,"     "Old   Ebenezer,"    "The 

Jucklins,"  "  On  the  Suwanee  River, "   "  The  Colossus, " 

"A  Kentucky  Colonel,"    "A  Tennessee  Judge," 

• '  Len  Gansett, "  "  Erarnett  Bonlore, ' '  '  '{The 

Tear  in  the  Cup  and  Other  Stones," 

"The  Wives  of  the  Prophet." 


ILLUSTRATED 


CHICAGO 
LAIRD  &  LEE,  PUBLISHED 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  eighteen 
hundred   and   ninety-six,    by 

WILLIAM  H.  LEE, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


1 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER, 


CHAPTER    I. 

This  is  the  story  of  a  master,  told  by  his  slave.  As  I 
sit  now,  after  the  flight  of  so  many  years,  and  gaze  at 
the  pictures  in  the  fire — the  hills  and  the  valleys  of  my 

boyhood,  so  bright,  so  glowing — I  am  oppressed  with 
Ev 
£*    the  fear  that  my  rude  hand  can  but  ill  execute  the  work 

^    that  I  have  undertaken.     And  yet,  I  feel  the  force  that 
»'. 

!    truth  alone  can  lend,  for  although  my  transcript  may 
be  crude,  I  know  that  in  the  years  now  far  away  but 

:*    which  are  coming  toward  us,  my  history  will  be  read 

in 

51    by   the   thoughtful   man   who   seeks   to   portray   the 

o 

strange  social   conditions  that  once   existed   in  our 
country. 

I  was  born  in  the  State  of  Kentucky,  on  the  blue- 
grass    farm    owned    by    Guilford     Gradley.     Many 
iu    changes  may  have  taken  place,  but  in  my  day  the 
Z3    northern  boundary  line  of  the  farm  and  the  southern 
corporate  limit  of  the  town  of  Litchford  here  came 
together;  and  I  think  that  one  of  my  earliest  recollec- 

4i£; 


6  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

tions  is  of  a  Sunday  morning,  when  my  young 
master  and  I  got  on  the  ground  and  parted  the  long 
grass  to  search  for  the  line.  I  know  it  must  have  been 
on  a  Sunday,  for  the  church  bells  were  ringing,  and 
Old  Master  and  Old  Miss  (as  we  always  called  his  wife) 
passed  us  on  their  way  to  town.  Old  Master  was  one 
of  the  most  prominent  men  in  the  State  (had  been  a 
general  in  the  militia),  and  this  influence  was  felt  even 
by  the  humblest  negro  on  the  place,  for  to  belong  to  a 
great  man  was  of  itself  a  social  prominence  not 
enjoyed  by  the  bondman  of  the  ordinary  individual. 
Why,  I  remember  seeing  a  little  negro  boy  weep  bit 
terly  because  a  playmate  had  taunted  him  with  the 
humiliating  fact  that  his  master  lived  in  a  log  house. 
Ah,  those  old  days,  by  turns  a  sad  and  a  happy  freak 
in  the  history  of  man ! 

Old  Master  had  three  children,  Miss  Lou,  who  had 
married  a  doctor;  Miss  May,  about  twelve  years  old, 
when  my  story  begins;  and  Mars.  Bob,  about  my  age. 
The  doctor  that  married  Miss  Lou  was  a  neat  man,  all 
the  time  picking  at  himself  and  cleaning  his  finger 
nails,  it  seemed  to  me,  and  I  had  thought  that  he  must 
be  a  great  man,  being  a  doctor  and  wearing  so  white 
a  shirt,  until  one  day  I  heard  Old  Master  tell  Old  Miss 
that  he  wasn't  worth  the  powder  and  lead  to  kill  him. 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  7 

i.jld  after  «hat  I  noticed  that  he  didn't  amount  to 
much,  and  I  firmly  believed  that  Toney,  the  yellow 
blacksmith  on  our  farm,  could  throw  him  down.  Miss 
Lou  was  a  handsome  young  woman,  with  beautiful 
eyes;  and  even  now  her  voice  sometimes  comes  to  me 
at  twilight,  singing,  'I  have  no  mother  now/  The 
song  always  made  me  cry,  for  I  had  no  mother.  Old 
Balch,  the  shoemaker,  used  to  tell  me  about  my 
mother.  He  said  that  he  had  often  seen  her  standing 
in  the  door  of  the  cabin,  with  me  in  her  arms,  singing 
that  song;  and  he  said  that  she  was  a  beautiful  crea 
ture,  with  hair  almost  straight.  And  I  recall  that  the 
first  time  he  told  me  this,  I  slipped  away,  into  old 
Mammy  Liza's  cabin,  where  I  climbed  upon  a  chair 
to  look  at  myself  in  an  old  broken  glass,  to  see  how 
white  I  was.  And  it  occurs  to  me  that  this  must  have 
been  the  day  when  a  preacher,  evidently  from  the 
North,  made  Old  Miss  boiling  mad  by  patting  me  on 
the  head  and  saying,  "What  a  handsome  little  fellow." 
Mars.  Bob  was  with  me  on  the  veranda  at  the  time  and 
it  was  a  great  scandal  that  the  preacher  should  not 
have  given  him  his  first  and  most  flattering  attention. 
But  he  did  not,  and  his  stay  in  our  house  was  short. 
One  morning,  Old  Master  called  Mars.  Bob  and  me 
into  his  library.  He  sat  there,  smoking  his  long-stem 


8  M¥  YOUNG   MASTER 

pipe,  with  his  elbow  resting  on  a  t^ble.  I  had  often 
run  through  the  room,  but  this  was  the  first  time  that 
I  had  ever  taken  a  good  look  at  it,  with  its  innumerable 
books  and  dark  busts  of  long-haired  men.  And  I  was 
staring  about  when  Old  Master  said : 

"Dan,  look  at  me." 

I  turned  my  eyes  upon  him,  not  in  fear,  but  more  in 
Twe,  for  I  felt  his  greatness,  not  so  much  in  his  owner 
ship  of  me,  as  in  the  searching  light  in  his  eye  and  the 
rumbling  depths  of  his  voice. 

"Dan,"  he  said,  "your  Mars.  Bob  is  six  years  old 
to-day — you  and  he  are  nearly  of  an  age — and  I  have 
given  you  to  him  for  a  birthday  present."  I  looked  at 
Mars.  Bob  and  he  looked  at  me.  Old  Master  contin 
ued:  "You  are  to  be  his,  to  go  with  him,  to  fight  with 
him,  and  to  play  with  him.  If  the  time  ever  comes 
when  it  is  necessary  for  you  to  die  in  order  to  save  him, 
do  it.  Bob." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Mars.  Bob. 

"Whose  boy  is  this?"  (looking  at  me). 

"Mine,  sir,"  Mars.  Bob  answered  proudly. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him?" 

"Take  him  with  me  wherever  I  go." 

"And  if  anyone  tries  to  whip  him,  what  are  you 
going  to  do?" 


M¥  YOUNG  MASTER  ., 

"Kill  the  feller  that  tries  it;"  Mars.  Bob  answered 
fiercely;  and  Old  Master  leaned  back  and  laughed. 
"You  musn't  kill  anybody  if  you  can  help  it,"  he  said. 
"Now  run  on." 

We  ran  out  into  the  yard  and  tumbled  upon  the 
grass  under  a  tree. 

"You  belong  to  me,  don't  you?"  said  Bob. 

"Yes." 

"Are  you  glad?" 

"I  don't  know  yet." 

"But  you'd  rather  belong  to  me  than  to  your  Mars. 
George,  wouldn't  you?"  he  asked,  meaning  the  doctor. 

"I  wouldn't  belong  to  him,"  I  replied.  "He  ain't 
worth  the  powder  and  lead  to  kill  him.  I'd  fight 
before  I'd  belong  to  him." 

"You  musn't  say  that,  Dan  —  but,  so  would  I." 
And,  after  a  silence,  he  said:  "If  anybody  starts  to 
whip  you,  don't  make  any  difference  who  it  is,  come 
and  tell  me,  won't  you?" 

"Yes,  and  we  will  both  fight  him,  won't  we?" 

"Yes,  but  I  can  whip  you  when  I  want  to,  can't  I?" 
t  "Yes,  but  nobody  else  shall." 

"I  know  that,  but  I  can,  can't  I?" 

"Sometimes,  but  not  all  the  time." 

"Yes,  I  can." 


10  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

"No,  you  can't." 

"I'll  whip  you  now  if  you  say  much." 

"Much!" 

He  struck  me  and  I  struck  him;  we  clinched  and  I 
threw  him,  and  the  next  moment  I  was  snatched  into 
the  air  by  the  doctor.  "You  little  scoundrel!"  he 
shouted,  "I'll  wear  you  out."  And  he  was  proceeding 
to  do  it,  with  a  riding  whip,  when  Bob  jumped  upon 
him  like  a  mad  cat;  and  there  we  had  it,  both  of  us 
biting  him,  when  Old  Master  ran  out  and  frightened 
us  all  nearly  to  death.  Old  Miss  came  out,  too,  and 
declared  that  I  ought  to  be  given  a  hundred  lashes, 
but  then  came  Miss  Lou.  She  took  me  by  the  hand 
and  said,  "No,  you  must  not  whip  the  poor  little  fel 
low."  And  at  this  Old  Master  turned  upon  her. 
"Who  the  devil's  going  to  whip  him,  I'd  like  to  know? 
George  Bates,  don't  you  touch  this  boy  again." 

And  now  Old  Miss  bristled  up.  "Guilford,  you  are 
always  showing  partiality  for  that  little  imp.  You  let 
him  take  the  place.  I  won't  stand  it  for  one." 

"Madam,"  said  Old  Master,  putting  me  behind  him, 
"he  may  be  what  you  call  him,  but  justice  should  be 
shown  even  to  an  imp.  Boys  that  have  any  spirit  at 
all  will  fight  and  you  can't  help  it,  and  by — "  here  he 
swore  a  terrible  oath  that  made  us  all  stare.  "I  say, 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  U 

if  Bob  can't  defend  himself,  he  must  take  the  conse 
quences.  Boys,  run  off  down  yonder  and  play,  now. 
Madam,  do  as  you  choose.  George  Bates,  attend  to 
your  own  affairs.  My  daughter,  come  with  me." 

Miss  Lou  was  hurt  at  the  way  Master  had  spoken 
to  her  husband,  and  as  he  took  her  hand  to  lead  her 
into  the  house,  she  put  her  face  upon  his  bosom  and  I 
heard  her  say,  "Please  don't  talk  to  him  that  way, 
father." 

He  kissed  her.  And  then  he  turned  to  the  doctor, 
who  hung  about  abashed.  "George,  I  beg  your  par 
don,  sir.  I  was  a  little  hasty  and  I  admit  it.  There, 
it's  all  right.  I'll  make  you  a  present  of  that  clay-bank 
horse  you  admire  so  much.  Get  him  and  take  a  ride, 
sir." 

"Oh,  father,'  Miss  Lou  cried,  "you  are  the  best  man 
in  the  world." 

"No,  I'm  an  old  pepper-box.  Look  out,  yon're 
tramping  all  over  my  feet.  You  boys  go  on  down  the 
creek  and  catch  some  fish  or  I'll  whip  both  of  you. 
Madam,"  he  added,  turning  to  Old  Miss  and  handing 
her  a  roll  of  bank  notes,  "go  to  town  and  do  your 
shopping." 


CHAPTER    II. 

It  seemed  that  on  this  very  day  my  eyes  were 
opened  with  a  new  intelligence,  and  not  only  my  spirit 
ual  but  my  physical  surroundings  became  clearer.  I 
saw  our  great  stone  house  as  I  had  never  seen  it 
before,  the  wooded  hill-sides,  deep  with  grass,  stretch 
ing  far  away ;  the  white-washed  cabins,  quarter-circling 
the  spacious  yard,  the  broad  garden  and  the  weeping- 
willow  trees  whereunder  Old  Master's  father  and 
mother  were  buried;  the  village  street  which  came 
abruptly  to  our  big  gate  and  there  stopped  in  a  fringe 
of  clover.  Through  our  place  a  bright  creek  ran,  as 
many  toned  as  a  pack  of  hounds;  and  far  to  the  right 
the  turn-pike  lay,  white  and  glistening  in  the  sun. 
Yes,  my  eyes  were  wider  opened  on  this  day,  and  a 
half-frightening  glimmer  of  reason  shot  across  my 
mind.  I  wondered  why  I  should  have  been  created  a 
piece  of  property,  while  one,  nearly  of  my  own  color 
and  whom  I  could  fling  upon  the  ground,  should  pos 
sess  me.  This  thought  stung  me,  but  there  came  a 
balm  in  the  reflection  that  if  I  wore  fetters  at  all,  they 

(12) 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  ig 

were  bright  and  lined  with  velvet.  Of  course,  at  this 
age  I  did  not  thus  reason  with  myself,  but  I  had  the 
feeling,  the  substance  of  the  thought,  and  the  dressing 
of  it  must  have  come  long  afterward. 

Bob  and  I  slept  in  the  same  room  up-stairs,  he  in  a 
canopied  bed,  I  on  a  low  lounge.  Old  Master  and 
Old  Miss  slept  in  a  large  room  just  across  the  hall; 
and  now  it  seems  to  me  that  many  a  time  at  midnight, 
d  stray  fancy,  wandering  throughout  the  world  of 
space,  looking  for  entertainment  in  a  human  mind, 
would  come  to  me  as  I  lay  in  that  little  bed — come  to 
me  and  rob  me  of  sleep — compel  me  to  lie  there  and 
listen  to  Old  Master's  slippered  feet,  slowly  pacing  up 
and  down  the  long  hall.  One  night,  and  it  must  have 
followed  the  day  when  I  had  been  given  over  as  Bob's 
exclusive  property,  I  awoke  to  hear  the  old  man's  dis 
tressful  shambling  up  and  down  the  hall.  The  night 
was  so  dark,  all  the  household  was  so  still  save  those 
restless  feet,  that  a  strange  pity  came  upon  me.  I 
heard  Old  Miss  call  him,  and  I  heard  him  reply,  "Go 
to  sleep  and  pay  no  attention  to  me."  But  he  seemed 
so  lonely  out  there  walking  alone,  that  I  found  the 
courage  to  open  the  door  and  peep  out  at  him.  A  dim 
light  hung  from  the  ceiling,  not  far  from  my  peeping 
place,  and  as  he  turned  about  he  saw  me. 


14  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"What  are  you  doing,  Dan?"  he  asked,  halting  and 
turning  to  me. 

"Will  you  please  let  me  come  out  and  walk  with 
you?"  was  my  bold  reply. 

"Walk  with  me?  What  could  have  put  that  into 
your  head?" 

"  'Cause  I  thought  you  must  be  tired  of  walking  by 
yourself." 

"Well,  run  along  back  to  bed." 

"General,"  Old  Miss  called,  "who's  out  there  with 
you?" 

"Do  you  see  anybody?"  he  asked,  looking  hard 
toward  her  door. 

"No,  but  I  hear  you  talking." 

"But  isn't  it  possible  for  a  man  to  talk  to  himself? 
Please  go  to  sleep."  Then  he  came  back  to  me  and 
said:  "Go  on  to  bed,  Dan.  And,  see  here,"  he  added 
as  I  turned  about,  "don't  get  up  any  more  when  you 
hear  me  walking/' 

I  hesitated  a  moment,  looking  at  him,  and  then  I 
asked:  "Master,  did  you  kill  a  man?" 

He  leaped  toward  me.  "Who  told  you  that?  Come 
back  here!"  I  had  started  to  run  away.  "Come  here 
to  me,  I'm  not  going  to  hurt  you."  He  laid  a  tight 


MY  YOUNS  MASTER  15 

hand  upon  my  arm.  "Why?  Who  said  anything 
about  my  killing  a  man?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  I  answered  honestly.  "I  don't 
know  who  said  it,  but  I  thought  you  did.  I  believe  I 
dreamed  it.  Did  you  kill  a  man?" 

I  can  see  him  now  as  he  stood  in  the  dim  light,  tall, 
frail,  majestic,  his  old  eyes  bright,  his  white  hair  glis 
tening.  He  cast  a  swift  glance  toward  his  bed-room 
door,  and  then  leading  me  with  him,  stepped  into  my 
room.  I  heard  the  window  curtain  rustle — he  was 
feeling  about  in  the  dark  for  a  seat — and  then  he  sat 
down  upon  the  window  ledge.  I  stood  beside  him, 
pressed  close  against  his  knee. 

"Don't  ever  speak  of  such  a  thing  again,"  he  said, 
"but  I  did  kill  a  man — in  this  room.  Are  you  scared?" 

"No,  sir,"  I  answered.     "Tell  me  about  it." 

It  was  some  time  before  he  spoke  again.  I  heard 
Bob's  gentle  breathing. 

"Have  you  ever  noticed  deep  marks  on  the  stairs  out 
there?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"The  prints  of  a  horse's  shoes?"  he  said.  And  then 
after  a  silence,  asked:  "Do  you  think  that  I  have 
been  drinking  to-night?" 

"No,  sir." 


16  MY  YOUN«   MASTER 

*Little  liar  you,  you  know  I  have." 

"But  tell  me  about  the  man  and  the  marks  on  th« 
stairs?" 

"Hush!  was  that  your  mistress  calling  me?  Wait  a 
moment."  I  waited  for  him  to  continue,  scarcely  able 
to  keep  from  trembling  against  his  knee.  "Would  you 
think  that  a  man  could  ride  up  those  stairs?"  he  asked. 

"No,  sir." 

"But  a  man  did.  I  had  said  that  I  was  going  to 
horse-whip  him,  and  one  day  when  I  lay  sick  in  bed, 
he  came,  drunk,  and  rode  up  the  stairs  to  my  room — 
this  room — to  make  me  eat  my  words.  I  heard  a 
terrible  racket,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  a  horse's 
head  was  poked  through  the  door.  I  thought  the 
devil  had  come.  But  the  next  moment  I  saw  my 
enemy,  standing  in  his  stirrups,  looking  down  on  me. 
He  held  a  pistol  in  his  hand  and  he  snapped  it  at  me. 
I  rolled  out  of  bed,  just  as  he  fired,  and  grabbed  a  gun 
and  killed  him.  He  fell  forward,  and  his  horse  to'ok 
fright  and  wheeled  about  for  the  door.  The  man — his 
name  was  Solomon  Putnam — fell  to  one  side  as  the 
horse  plunged,  but  his  foot  caught  in  the  stirrup,  and 
he  was  dragged  away — dragged  to  his  own  gate.  The 
law  cleared  me,  and  I  know  that  I  was  right,  but  some 
times  I  see  that  man,  hanging  to  the  stirrup,  with  the 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  17 

blood  streaming  out  of  his  mouth.  I'm  not  afraid 
—I'd  do  it  over  again.  But  I  can't  sleep  when  I  see 
him." 

The  door  creaked.  "General!"  It  was  the  voice  of 
Old  Miss. 

"Madam,  what  do  you  want?" 

"What  are  you  doing  in  there?" 

"Talking  to  myself.  Go  on  and  I  will  come  in  a 
moment." 

"I  told  you  not  to  drink  that  brandy — I  knew  how 
it  would  be." 

"Yes,  you  knew  how  it  would  be  and  I  know  how  if 
is,  so  we  are  about  even.  Go  on,  and  I  will  be  there 
in  a  moment." 

The  door  creaked  again,  and  I  heard  her  footsteps 
as  she  went  away.  Old  Master  got  up.  "Dan,"  he 
whispered,  "if  you  ever  say  a  word,  I'll  whip  you.  Do 
you  hear?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  have  told  Bob.  But  you  musn't  talk  about  it 
even  to  him.  There,  now,  go  on  to  bed." 

"And  will  you  go  to  bed  too?"  I  asked. 

"What's  that  to  you,  nighthawk?  Go  to  bed,  and  if 
I  catch  you  up  again  to-night,  I'll  whip  you." 


CHAPTER   HI. 

Early  at  morning,  Bob  and  I  were  summoned  by 
Old  Master  to  go  squirrel  hunting,  to  walk  round  the 
trees,  and  turn  the  squirrel  into  range  of  his  long  rifle 
and  the  deadly  squint  of  his  sharp  old  eye.  It  was 
spring-time  and  the  squirrels  were  nipping  the  hick 
ory  buds;  it  was  sunrise  and  the  bold  cock-partridge, 
his  feathers  ruffled,  strutted  up  and  down  the  top  rail 
of  the  fence.  We  had  not  proceeded  far  before  we 
came  upon  a  neighbor,  'Squire  Boyle,  sitting  upon  a 
log,  picking  at  the  lock  of  his  gun.  He  hailed  Old 
Master  and  bade  him  wait  a  moment.  And  both  men, 
seated  upon  the  log,  fell  into  an  argument  that  lasted 
till  the  sun  was  high.  We  heard  the  blowing  of  the 
breakfast  horn,  we  saw  the  smoke  rise  in  the  fields, 
where  the  women  were  burning  the  old  corn-stalks; 
we  saw  the  men  breaking  up  the  tobacco  land,  but  Old 
Master  and  the  squire  sat  there  and  talked,  and  some 
times  I  was  afraid  that  they  were  going  to  fight,  so 
fierce  were  their  gestures  and  so  loud  did  they  lift  their 
voices.  Bob  and  I  were  impatient,  and  occasionally 

(18) 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  19 

Bob  would  say,  "Come  on,  pa."  But  the  old  man 
heeded  him  not,  until  finally  he  turned  about  with 
anger  in  his  eyes,  and  cried  out  as  if  in  pain:  "If  you 
don't  quit  nagging  at  me,  I  will  box  your  jaws.  Go 
on  to  the  house,  both  of  you.  'Zounds,  I  can't  budge 
but  these  boys  are  dogging  my  foot-steps.  Go  on  to 
the  house  and  if  I  catch  you  following  me  again,  I'll 
whip  you  both." 

We  fell  back  a  short  distance  and  hid  behind  a  clump 
of  briars  and  sat  there  watching,  fearful  that  the  two 
men  were  going  to  fight.  But  their  guns  were  thrown 
aside  and  they  were  walking  up  and  down  the  length 
of  the  log.  "I  tell  you,"  Old  Master  cried,  "that  this 
step  will  kill  him.  The  people  of  this  State  will  not 
put  up  with  it.  It  is  well  enough  to  talk  about  justice 
and  human  sympathy,  but  if  Henry  Clay  openly  advo 
cates  the  freeing  of  the  slaves  it  will  kill  him.  I  don't 
understand  how  he  can  be  so  untrue  to  the  principles 
of  his  community,  but,  'Squire — "  Here  he  halted  in 
his  walk  and  shook  his  fist  fiercely — "but,  'Squire,  I 
can  understand  you,  sir.  You  are  not  a  Southern  man 
and  you  have  never  owned  a  slave.  Ah,  but  you  are 
an  American.  Yes,  I  grant  you  that,  but  the  real 
defender  of  this  country  is  the  Southern  man,  sir. 
What's  that  you  say?  Would  I  break  up  the  Union 


20  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

rather  than  lose  the  slaves?  No,  sir,  I  would  not ;  and 
there  will  never  be  such  an  issue."  Here  he  looked 
about  and  caught  sight  of  us  lurking  behind  the  briars, 
"Boys!"  he  cried,  taking  up  his  gun  and  pulling  out 
the  hickory  ram-rod,  "if  you  don't  march  off  home, 
this  minute,  I'll  wear  you  both  out."  And  as  we  had 
tasted  that  hickory  and  knew  its  flavor,  we  scampered 
away. 

"Do  you  know  what  they  were  talking  about?"  Bob 
asked,  when  we  had  reached  a  safe  distance. 

"Something  about  making  the  black  people  free,"  I 
answered. 

"They  are  free  enough  already,"  he  replied,  looking 
sharply  at  me  as  we  walked  along  the  path. 

"I'm  not  free,"  I  rejoined.     "I  belong  to  you." 

Then  he  looked  at  me  proudly.  "Yes,"  he  said, 
"and  we  will  have  lots  of  fun.  When  we  get  big,  we'll 
get  some  great  long  guns  and  go  out  and  kill  Indians, 
and  if  anybody  tries  to  shoot  you,  I'll  shoot  him. 
Won't  I?" 

"Yes,  and  I'll  shoot  anybody  that  tries  to  shoot 
you." 

We  had  crossed  the  bars  where  the  cows  stood  at 
evening  waiting  to  nourish  their  calves,  and  were 


MY   YOUNG  MASTER    ,  gf 

going  toward  the  stone  spring-house,  when  we  met 
Old  Miss. 

"Robert,"  she  said,  "run  and  find  your  father,  quick! 
Your  sister  Lou  is  sick." 

Bob  turned  to  go  back,  and  so  did  I,  but  she  called 
me.  "Dan,  you  are  not  going.  Go  over  to  Aunt 
Mag's  cabin  and  stay  there  until  you  are  sent  for." 

I  sat  in  the  cabin  door  and  watched  the  old  woman 
spin.  She  gave  me  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk,  and  she 
told  me  that  whenever  I  was  mistreated  to  slip  into  her 
house  and  hide  under  her  bed.  "I'm  treated  all  right," 
I  remember  to  have  replied.  And  I  recollect  also  to 
have  declared  that  I  fought  when  they  did  not  treat  me 
well.  "You'se  er  monstus  brave  little  man,"  she  said, 
pausing  at  the  door  to  pat  me  on  the  head.  "Fo'  gra 
cious,  whut's  de  matter  up  at  de  house?  Look  at  de 
folks  all  runnin'  er  roun'?  Go  up  dar  an'  see." 

I  was  afraid  to  go  in,  believing,  and  not  without 
cause,  that  Old  .Miss  would  tap  me  on  the  head  with 
her  big  store-room  key,  and  I  hung  about  the  door 
that  opened  out  upon  the  long  veranda.  Everything 
was  quiet  save  the  mocking-bird  in  his  cage  hung  in 
the  hall.  But  a  moment  later  I  heard  the  well-known 
feet  of  Old  Master,  pacing  up  and  down.  I  peeped  m 
and  saw  Dr.  Bates  walking  toward  the  door,  and  I  ran 


22  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

away  and  went  back  to  Aunt  Mag's  cabin.  Old  Silvy, 
the  cook,  took  down  the  long  horn,  with  a  snake  and 
a  deer's  head  carved  upon  it,  and  blew  a  blast  for  din 
ner,  and  then  the  men  and  the  plow  horses  came 
through  the  big  gate,  with  trace-chains  jangling.  I 
wondered  what  could  have  become  of  Bob.  It  was 
rare,  indeed,  that  we  were  so  long  separated.  Aunt 
Mag  gave  me  another  bowl  of  bread  and  milk,  and  I 
sat  there  on  the  doorstep,  watching  the  sun-mark 
slowly  moving  round  the  house.  The  men  went  back 
to  work.  I  dozed  off  to  sleep  and  was  aroused  with  a 
shake.  I  looked  up  and  saw  a  girl  hastening  up  the 
path  toward  the  house.  Old  Aunt  Mag  was  standing 
over  me.  "Dan'l,"  she  said,  looking  down  upon  me, 
"po'  Miss  Lou  is  gone — she  died  jest  now." 

The  goodness  and  the  sweetness  of  that  fair  young 
woman  rushed  upon  me,  and  I  could  not  see  for  the 
tears  that  gushed  to  my  eyes.  In  a  moment  I 
recounted  her  kindness  and  her  winsome  smile — she 
had  never  spoken  a  cross  word  to  me.  I  had  lost  a 
protecting  friend.  Under  a  tree  I  lay  with  my  face 
buried  in  the  grass,  sobbing.  An  arm  stole  about  my 
neck.  I  looked  up.  Bob  lay  beside  me. 

This  was  my  first  grief.  And  oh,  the  awful  sadness 
of  the  funeral.  Everywhere  the  negro's  mellow  song 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  23 

was  hushed,  and  the  trace-chains  no  longer  jangled. 
The  sun  was  bright,  the  rose  was  fresh,  the  stiff-neck 
tulip  was  proud,  but  the  creek  which  yesterday  went 
laughing  through  the  pasture  was  mourning  now. 
The  horses  stood  looking  over  the  fence,  the  frisky 
colts  were  surprised,  and  turning  from  their  play, 
stretched  themselves  out  upon  the  clover.  Old  Aunt 
Mag  dressed  me,  with  the  tears  shining  on  her  black 
face.  "Her  speret  is  praisin'  de  Lawd  dis  mornin'," 
she  said.  "You  kin  go  ter  de  house  now.  All  de 
black  folks  is  gwine  ter  look  at  her." 

I  stood  at  the  parlor  door,  with  my  knees  trembling. 
Old  Master  came  out  to  walk  up  and  down  the  ver 
anda.  He  saw  me  looking  wistfully  at  him,  and  he 
halted  to  speak  to  me,  but  his  chin  shook  and  he 
walked  on.  Miss  May  came  to  me  and  told 
me  to  come  with  her.  I  stepped  into  the  room 
and  my  heart  leaped  into  my  throat  at  the  sight — Miss 
Lou  lying  on  a  bed  of  roses.  Slowly  our  people  came 
in,  as  silent  as  the  pillow  of  white  roses  holding  that 
beautiful  head,  and  stood  there,  awe-struck.  From  a 
distant  room  came  the  broken  lamentations  of  Old 
Miss.  An  old  black  man,  a  giant  who  preached  for 
the  negroes,  stood  at  the  head  of  the  rose-shroud.  He 
gazed  with  the  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  turning  away  he 


24  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

said:  "De  Lawd  neber  called  home  er  mo'  beautiful 
speret."  Old  Master  came  in,  and  the  two  men  put 
their  hands  upon  each  other  and  wept. 

There  was  no  hearse,  no  carriages.  Through  the 
garden  gate  they  bore  their  beautiful  burden,  and 
slowly  the  throng  of  neighbors  followed,  the  negroes 
chanting  mournfully.  A  white  man  spoke  of  the 
resurrection  and  the  light,  and  the  old  negro  giant 
prayed,  with  his  knees  in  the  clay.  Old  Master  led 
Old  Miss  home  to  the  dead  hush  of  the  great  house; 
and  at  midnight  I  heard  the  old  man's  feet  pacing  up 
and  down  the  hall.  It  seemed  a  crime  to  let  him  walk 
out  there  alone.  Once  I  thought  I  heard  him  stop  at 
my  door,  and  I  got  up  and  went  to  him.  "Marster," 
I  said,  "won't  you  please  let  me  walk  with  you?" 

He  said  nothing,  but  he  sobbed,  and  then  I  knew 
that  he  would  not  drive  me  away.  And  so  I  walked 
with  him  until  daylight  was  come.  "Run  along  now," 
he  said.  "Be  a  good  boy  and  you  will  go— go  where 
she  has  gone." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

The  days  grew  hotter,  the  green  corn  waved  on  the 
hill-side,  the  wheat  was  ripening,  but  the  deep  mystery 
of  death  was  over  it  all.  The  boy  goes  about  his  play, 
he  shouts  and  has  his  daily  contentions,  his  quarrels 
and  fights,  but  darkness  comes,  and  as  he  goes  to  his 
bed,  his  mind  reverts  to  a  soul  that  has  recently  taken 
its  flight.  Older  people  have  the  consoling  prop  of 
religion  or  the  forceful  brace  of  philosophy,  but  in  the 
boy's  nostrils  lives  the  scent  of  the  roses  that  lay  upon 
the  breast  of  mystic  death;  a  fear  possesses  him  as  he 
peeps  in  at  the  parlor  door.  Ah,  many  days  must  fall 
upon  a  sad  memory  before  it  is  sweetened.  They  told 
me  that  my  young  mistress  was  in  Heaven.  I  asked 
Aunt  Mag  if  she  would  be  my  mistress  there,  and  she 
said  no,  that  there  was  no  mistresses  in  Heaven,  no 
slaves,  but  all  white  and  the  angels  of  God.  And  with 
the  flash  of  iconoclastic  reason  that  comes  to  youth,  I 
asked  her  why  God  made  black  people  belong  to  white 
people  on  the  earth  and  afterward  made  them  all  equal 
in  Heaven.  The  old  woman  turned  from  her  spinning 

(25) 


26  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

wheel  and  held  up  her  hands  in  fright.  "Chile,"  she 
said,  "you  musn't  talk  like  dat.  Whut  de  Lawd  do  it 
ain't  fur  us  ter  question,  an'  ef  you  wan't  so  young  you 
mout  git  struck  wid  lightenin'  fur  sayin'  dem  words. 
Run  off  ober  yander  in  de  yard  an'  play.  I'se  er 
leered  de  lightenin'  mought  strike  at  you  anyhow." 

That  night  as  Bob  and  I  lay  in  our  room,  he  in  his 
high  canopied  bed,  and  I  on  my  low  lounge,  I  asked 
him  if  he  knew  that  all  the  black  people  would  be  white 
in  Heaven.  "Yes,  of  course,"  he  answered.  "It 
would  be  a  funny  Heaven  with  a  lot  of  niggers  stand 
ing  about,  grinning." 

"But  they  wouldn't  have  to  grin." 

"No,  but  they  would." 

"And  you  won't  own  me  there,  will  you?"  I  said, 
after  a  moment's  silence. 

"No,  you'll  belong  to  God." 

"But  don't  I  belong  to  God  now?" 

I  heard  him  turn  over.  "Yes,  but  you  belong  to 
me,  too.  And  when  I  get  through  with  you  God  may 
have  you.  Get  over  in  my  bed  and  I'll  bet  I  can  throw 
you  out." 

"No,  Old  Miss  might  hear  us.  But  do  you  think," 
I  asked  after  musing  for  a  time,  "that  we'll  know  each 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  27 

Other  up  there  and  talk  about  the  time  when  we  were 
down  here?" 

"Yes;  why  not?" 

"But  you'd  tell  me  that  I  used  to  belong  to  you  and 
God  wouldn't  like  that" 

"Well,  then,  we  won't  say  anything  about  it,  but 
we'll  think  about  it  all  the  same." 

"Yes,  we'd  keep  it  to  ourselves.  But  if  a  nigger 
angel  beats  a  white  angel  flying,  there'll  be  trouble, 
won't  there?" 

"There  won't  be  anything  of  that.  God  won't  let 
the  nigger  angels  out-fly  the  white  ones." 

There  came  a  tap  at  the  door — a  house-maid  come 
to  tell  us  that  if  we  did  not  stop  talking  Old  Miss 
would  come  in  and  whip  us.  We  whispered  and  gig 
gled  a  long  time,  and  then  Bob  fell  asleep,  and  I  lay 
there  thinking  of  the  white  roses  that  had  scented  the 
parlor.  It  must  have  been  very  late  for  the  lights  were 
out  everywhere,  when  I  heard  voices  on  the  walk  just 
below  my  window.  I  looked  out  cautiously  and  in  the 
moonlight  I  saw  Old  Master  and  Dr.  George  Bates. 
Master  was  walking  up  and  down,  but  the  doctor  stood 
still. 

"I  want  you  to  understand  this,"  said  the  old  man. 
"You  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  stay  here  as  long  as  you 


28  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

choose — and  I  will  feed  you  and  clothe  you,  but  you 
must  have  nothing  whatever  to  say  about  the  running 
of  my  affairs.  You  are  constantly  meddling  with 
things  that  don't  concern  you." 

"General,  it  is  not  my  intention  to  interfere,  I  assure 
you." 

"But  you  do,"  said  Old  Master,  making  an  emphatic 
motion.  "You  seem  to  think  that  I  ought  to  divide 
my  property  with  you.  Get  that  out  of  your  head  as 
soon  as  you  can." 

"It  has  never  been  in  my  head,  General.  I  merely 
suggested  that  if  you  would  give  me  Dan  I  would  take 
him  and  go  South." 

"Give  you  Dan!  Confound  it,  haven't  I  told  you 
that  he  belongs  to  Bob?" 

"Yes,  but  I  didn't  know  but  you  gave  him  away  just 
as  a  man  sometimes  gives  a  colt  to  a  boy — merely  to 
claim." 

"I  don't  give  things  that  way,  sir." 

"I  know,  but  your  wife — " 

"There,  that  will  do." 

"She  said  that  she  thought  that  you  might  be 
induced — " 

"Didn't  I  say  that  would  do?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but  let  me  finish,  if  you  please.     Of  course 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

you  know  that  my  wife's   share,   whatever  it 
amount  to,  will  fall  to  me?" 

"Yes,  if  I  so  desire  it,  sir." 

"But  I  know  you  well  enough  to  feel  that  you  won't 
refuse  me." 

"Now  you  are  presuming  upon  my  kindness,  sir.** 

"No,  sir;  I  am  paying  a  tribute  to  your  sense  of  jus 
tice.  And  now  this  is  what  I  have  agreed  to  do :  to  take 
Dan  and  wait  until  you  are  ready — " 

"You  have  agreed  with  whom,  sir?"  Old  Master 
broke  in. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  that  it  was  exactly  an  agreement. 
I  had  a  talk  with  your  wife,  and — " 

"Infamous  puppy!"  Old  Master  cried,  shaking  his 
fist  in  the  doctor's  face.  "Didn't  I  tell  you  that  you'd 
gone  far  enough  in  that  direction?" 

"General,"  said  the  doctor,  stepping  back,  "you  have 
insulted  me." 

Old  Master  snorted.  "Oh,  I  have  insulted  you, 
have  I?  Then  I  have  done  something  that  I  thought 
must  be  impossible.  Listen  to  me.  You  came  here 
a  beggar,  with  a  doctor's  sheep-skin  under  your  arm; 
you  are  of  a  good  family — that  I  will  not  deny.  But  I 
say  you  came  a  beggar,  and  you  won  my  child — how, 
God  only  knows.  You  told  me  that  you  would  prac- 


80  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

tice  medicine  on  the  plantation  after  you  were  married, 
but  did  >oxx?" 

"Why,  yes,  sir;  I  have  attended  many  a  case.  You 
know  one  very  well." 

"Oh,  you  have?  Did  you  get  out  of  bed  when  they 
sent  for  you  one  night  to  see  old  Aunt  Mag?  Didn't 
you  complain  that  you  were  too  sick  to  get  up?  And 
that  very  night,  sir,  didn't  you  slip  away  and  play 
poker  over  the  creek?" 

"Somebody  has  lied  about  me,"  the  doctor  declared. 

"I  admit,  sir,  that  lying  has  been  done,  but  you  did 
it." 

"General,  I  insist  that  you  must  not  talk  to  me  this 
way.  I'm  no  dog." 

"If  you  were,  sir,  I  would  be  more  considerate  of 
you." 

"Keep  on  and  you'll  say  something  that  you  may 
regret." 

Just  at  that  moment  Old  Master  had  turned  to  walk 
down  the  path,  but  he  wheeled  about.  "What's  that? 
Say  something  that  I  may  regret?  I  don't  know  about 
that,  sir,  but  I  may  say  something  that  you'll  regret. 
I  may  tell  you  to  get  off  this  place,  and  I  won't  regret 
it,  but  you  will." 

"That  would  be  a  scandal,  General." 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  31 

"Yes,  a  disgrace — to  you."  The  old  man  walked 
down  the  path,  tall  and  gaunt  in  the  moon-light.  He 
turned,  and  coming  back,  stepping  slowly,  he  said: 
"But  it  is  our  duty  to  avoid  anything  in  the  nature  of  a 
rupture.  So  now,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  agree  to  do. 
I  will  give  you  Sam  and  money  enough  to  go  South, 
and  when  the  time  comes  to  divide  the  estate,  you  shall 
have  your  share.  Now,  I  ask  you  if  that  is  not  fair?" 

"Yes,  General,  it  is  perfectly  fair,  but — " 

"But  what,  sir?"  Master  snapped  impatiently. 

"But  I  don't  want  Sam.  I  want  Dan — want  to 
make  a  race  rider  of  him." 

"What  good  will  a  race  rider  do  you?  You've  got 
no  horses." 

"I  can  get  the  horses." 

"But  you  can't  get  Dan,  sir,  so  let  the  matter  rest. 
Bates,  I  don't  want  to  get  mad,  and  I  should  think, 
sir,  that  in  the  light  of  our  recent  affliction — " 

"I  understand,  General,  and  we'll  let  the  subject 
drop,  but  if  Bob  should  agree — " 

"Stop,  there,  sir.  Bob  is  not  old  enough  to  enter 
tain  a  business  proposition."  For  a  time  the  old  man 
walked  up  and  down,  with  his  hands  behind  him  and 
then  turned  upon  the  doctor.  "I  believe,  sir,  that  you 
are  an  evil-minded  man.  For  a  long  time  I  thought 


32  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

that  your  laziness  was  an  indication  of  good  nature— 
the  lazy  dog  is  rarely  vicious — but  now  I  am  of  the 
opinion  that  you  have  an  active  quality,  that  of  rascal 
ity,  sir." 

"General,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  can't  stand  every 
thing.  You  forget,  sir,  that  I  am  a  gentleman." 

"Oh,  do  I  forget  it?"  the  old  man  spoke  up.  "There 
is  a  difference  between  forgetting  a  thing  and  never 
having  known  it.  Bates,  I  have  endeavored  to  like 
you,  I  have  striven  to  crush  what  I  hoped  was  merely 
a  prejudice,  but  I  can't.  I  don't  think  that  we  have 
ever  held  an  agreeable  conversation.  There  is  some 
thing  about  you  that  antagonizes  me.  When  you  are 
away  I  am  determined  to  like  you,  but  when  you  come 
back,  I  find  that  my  resolve  is  weak.  I  don't  want  to 
drive  you  off — I  would  stand  most  anything  rather 
than  face  a  neighborhood  scandal,  but  don't  you  think 
that  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  you  to  go  away  and 
ttay  away  for  a  long  time?  I  say,  don't  you?" 

"You  can  drive  me  off,  sir." 

"Ah,  the  very  thing  you  want  me  to  do — you  want 
to  put  my  name  into  the  mouths  of  the  gossipers." 

"General,  you  have  called  me  a  scoundrel  and  now 
you  are  trying  to  prove  it.  I  can  stand  a  great  deal, 
but  I  can't  put  up  with  everything — even  from  you.  I 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  33 

have  told  you  that  I  am  a  gentleman,  and  while  a  gen 
tleman  respects  age,  he  cannot  permit  age  to  humiliate 
him.  I  know  that  you've  got  nerve  enough  to  shoot 
a  man  who  rides  into  your  room — " 

"Another  word  of  that,  Bates,  and  I  will  knock  you 
down." 

"You  have  gone  too  far,"  Bates  replied  in  a  tone  that 
made  me  shiver.  The  moon  shone  upon  his  half 
upturned  face  and  I  fancied  that  I  saw  the  glitter  of  his 
evil  eyes.  Master,  who  was  now  standing  some  dis 
tance  from  him  said  something  which  I  did  not  catch 
and  Bates,  with  his  hand  upraised,  made  a  stride 
toward  him.  At  my  elbow,  on  a  stand  near  the  win 
dow,  was  a  heavy  glass  tumbler.  Indeed,  I  had  long 
held  it  in  my  hand,  and  when  Bates  strode  forward,  I 
threw  the  tumbler  with  all  my  might.  I  heard  it 
strike,  and  leaning  out,  I  saw  the  doctor  lying  on  the 
ground.  I  heard  Old  Master  shout  for  a  light,  and 
now  thoroughly  frightened,  I  ran  to  my  lounge  and  lay 
there  with  the  cover  drawn  over  my  head. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Early  at  morning  Old  Master  came  into  our  rooia 
I  was  awake  but  Bob  was  still  asleep.  "Dan/'  he  said, 
"I  want  to  ask  you  something  and  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  the  truth,  and  if  you  don't,  I'll  whip  you  within  an 
inch  of  your  life,  sir."  He  always  said  sir  when  he 
strove  to  be  emphatic.  "Were  you  at  the  window  last 
night  when  the  doctor  and  I  were  standing  down  in 
the  yard?  It  was  you  or  Bob,  I  don't  know  which, 
and  as  you  are  a  night-hawk,  sir,  I  believe  it  was  you." 
''  "Yes,  sir,"  I  answered  promptly.  And  then  I  trem 
blingly  asked:  "Is  he  dead?" 

The  old  man  turned  from  me  and  strode  up  and 
down  the  room.  He  went  to  the  window,  looked  out. 
and  with  his  hands  behind  him,  came  walking  slowly 
toward  me.  "Dan,"  he  said,  "I  told  you  to  be  a  good 
boy  and  that  you  would  one  day — you  remember  what 
I  said.  But  now  I  must  ask  you  to  tell  a  lie.  You 
must  say  that  you  were  trying  to  put  down  the  window 
and  knocked  the  tumbler  off.  Do  you  hear  me?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

(tt) 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  35 

"All  right.  After  breakfast  I  will  send  for  you  and 
Bob  to  come  into  the  library." 

He  went  out  and  I  thought  that  he  tip-toed  as  he 
went  down  the  stairs.  At  breakfast  I  stood  behind  my 
young  master's  chair,  until  the  meal  was  over,  and 
then  I  went  to  the  kitchen  to  eat  with  the  house-maids. 
Presently  I  was  told  by  a  spinning  woman  that  Old 
Master  wanted  to  see  me  in  the  library.  "An'  he's  ez 
mad  ez  a  ho'net,"  she  said.  "Mars.  George  wuz  badly 
hurt  las'  night  an'  da  gwine  fin'  out  who  done  it,  too, 
I  tell  you." 

Old  Aunt  Mag  stood  in  the  door.  "But  whut  da 
want  ter  sen'  fur  dis  po',  muderless  chile  fur?"  she 
spoke  up.  "Da's  questioned  all  de  rest  o'  de  niggers, 
an'  now  da  gwine  put  him  on  de  hot  griddle.  Dat 
ain't  no  way  ter  act,  snatchin'  up  er  little  boy  an'  cuzin' 
him  o'  knockin'  er  big  man  down.  But  run  er  long, 
Dan,  an  stan'  square  up.  Ricolleck  dat  you  ain't  no 
common  nigger — ricolleck  dat  you  doan  b'long  ter  de 
Smifs  ur  de  Bucks  nur  de  Brizzentines.  You'ze  er 
Gradley  an'  b'longs  ter  folks,  I  tell  you." 

In  the  library  were  assembled  Old  Master,  Old  Miss, 
young  Miss  May,  Bob  and  'Squire  Boyle,  who  hap 
pened  in  about  breakfast  time.  I  looked  about  as  I 
entered  the  room,  and  I  saw  the  doctor,  lying  on  a 


36  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

sofa,  with  his  head  tied  up.  Old  Master's  head  begpr  % 
to  shake  with  anger  as  soon  as  he  saw  me  coming  ii^, 
"Dan,"  he  said,  "last  night  your  Mars.  George  and  I 
were  standing  in  the  yard  under  the  window  of  your 
Mars.  Bob's  room,  and  this  tumbler,  sir — "  here  he 
reached  back  and  took  a  tumbler  from  a  desk — "this 
tumbler,  sir,  struck  him  on  the  head  and  cut  him  badly. 
Your  Mars.  Bob  doesn't  know  anything  about  it.  Do 
you?  Come,  no  lying,  or  I'll  whip  you  within  an  inch 
of  your  life." 

"He  ought  to  be  skinned  alive,"  Old  Miss  declared, 
giving  her  head  an  emphatic  nod. 

"Just  wait  and  I'll  take  care  of  him,"  said  Old  Mas 
ter.  "What  do  you  know  about  it?"  he  repeated, 
looking  at  me  savagely. 

"I  went  to  put  down  the  window,  sir,  and  knocked  it 
off,"  I  stammered. 

"Do  you  hear  that?"  Old  Miss  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  I  hear  it,"  said  Old  Master,  quivering  with 
rage.  "You  went  to  put  down  the  window?  And 
why  did  you  want  to  put  down  the  window,  sir?" 

"I  thought  it  was  going  to  rain." 

"Hump!"  Old  Miss  grunted,  "the  yellow  imp  has 
turned  out  to  be  a  weather  prophet." 

"Madam,"  said  Old  Master,  "let  me  manag%  him,  if 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  «fl 

please.  You  thought  it  was  going  to  rain?"  he 
on,  turning  to  me.  "And  what  made  you  think 
to?" 

"I  thought  I  heard  it  thunder." 

"Oh,  you  did?  Well,  you  shall  hear  it  thundet. 
Madam,  give  me  your  cow-hide." 

I  don't  know  that  I  ever  saw  my  old  mistress  spring 
up  with  such  agility.  She  snatched  the  cow-hide  out 
of  some  mysterious  hiding  place,  handed  it  to  him  and 
said:  "And,  for  pity's  sake,  see  that  you  give  him 
enough  of  it." 

"You  shan't  whip  him!"  Bob  cried.  "If  you  whip 
him  you've  got  to  whip  me,  too." 

"Robert!"  Old  Miss  shouted,  "I'll  give  it  to  you  in 
good  earnest  if  you  don't  keep  quiet.  Your  father 
knows  what  he's  about.  Sit  down  there." 

Bob  was  forced  back  into  his  seat  and  Miss  May, 
beautiful  and  tender  creature,  began  to  beg  for  me. 

"Hush,  everybody!"  Old  Master  thundered.  "Has 
it  come  to  a  pass  when  I  am  not  permitted  to  manage 
my  own  affairs?  Come  with  me,  Dan." 

He  took  me  by  the  collar  and  led  me  into  the  store 
room.  "Take  off  that  coat!"  he  shouted,  and  as  I  was 
obeying  him  he  said  in  a  low  and  kindly  tone.  "Now 
you  must  yell  as  if  I  were  cutting  you  in  two,"  and 

4:49677 


38 

with  that  he  fell  afoul  of  a  sack  of  coffee  and  with  the 
cow-hide  laid  the  lash  on  furiously.  I  yelled  at  the  top 
of  my  lusty  voice,  and  during  the  intervals  when  my 
ears  were  not  submerged  by  the  torrent  of  my  own 
outcry,  I  heard  the  revengeful  step  of  Old  Miss,  up  and 
down  the  passage-way. 

"Now  goj"  Old  Master  roared,  "and  the  next  time 
you  hear  it  thunder,  let  tumblers  alone." 

I  came  out  buttoning  up  my  jacket  and  Old  Miss 
gave  me  a  smile  of  welcome.  But  Bob  and  Miss  May 
stood  in  the  library  door,  crying;  and  to  this  day  it  is 
a  dear  memory  that  Miss  May  ran  to  the  dining-room 
and  brought  me  a  sugared  biscuit.  Old  Master  and 
'Squire  Boyle  strode  out  into  the  yard,  and  I  saw  Old 
Master  lean  upon  the  gate  and  laugh. 

During  all  that  day  I  was  the  object  of  a  pitying 
regard.  'To'  little  feller,"  was  heard  about  the  cabin 
door-ways  and  upon  the  sward,  and  there  was  many  a 
sullen  muttering  and  the  shaking  of  nappy  heads. 
Bob  was  furious,  having  come  out  of  his  tears  into  the 
territory  of  bold  and  resentful  anger,  and  he  blamed 
his  mother  with  my  unjust  punishment,  persisting 
until  the  old  lady  caught  him  ungently,  slipped  a  soft 
shoe  from  her  foot,  and  paddled  him  until  the  maudlin 
calves  in  a  distant  enelosure  heeded  his  cries  with 


bleatings  of  sympathy.  And  when  he  found  himself 
.  free  of  his  mother's  avenging-  clutch,  he  ran  to  me  and 
blubbering,  said:  "Come  on,  Dan.  We'll  go  down 
to  the  creek  and  drown  ourselves."  This  suggestion 
was  in  harmony  with  my  sorrowful  view,  for  now  I  felt 
worse  than  if  Master  had  cut  the  blood  out  of  me,  and 
together  we  set  out  for  the  swimming-hole  at  the  edge 
of  the  walnut  grove.  At  times  we  halted  to  bid  fare 
well  to  objects  that  were  dear  to  us,  the  great  oak  from 
which  the  big  gate  swung,  the  smooth  rock  where  we 
had  so  often  sat  at  twilight.  The  horses  nodded  a 
farewell  and  the  cows  lowed  at  us. 

"It  ain't  our  fault,"  said  Bob,  "and  when  they  take 
us  out  of  the  creek  dead,  I  want  them  to  know  it.  But 
I  don't  think  they'll  cry  very  much.  How  can  they, 
when  they  have  tried  to  kill  us?" 

"It  won't  make  any  difference  to  us  whether  they 
cry  or  not,"  I  replied.  "We  won't  know  anything 
about  it." 

We  came  to  the  swimming-hole  and  the  water  was 
blue  and  deep.  Upon  the  grass  under  a  tree  we  sat 
and  gazed  in  silence  into  the  pool.  "We'll  take  off  our 
clothes,"  said  Bob,  "and  then  when  they  find  us  they'll 
think  that  we  were  drowned  accidentally  and  that  will 
make  'em  cry." 


40  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

The  song  of  a  plow-man  came  floating  through  the 
soft  air;  a  blue-jay  above  us  shrieked  in  a  fit  of  merri 
ment;  a  cat-bird  laughed  at  us  and  we  looked  at  each 
other. 

"Mars.  Bob,"  said  I,  "he  didn't  hurt  me  much." 

"But  I  thought  he  was  killing  you  by  the  way  you 
hollered." 

"Yes,  but  he  told  me  to.  I'll  tell  you  something  if 
you'll  cross  your  heart  that  you'll  never  tell  anybody." 

He  crossed  his  heart  and  I  told  him,  and  he  lay  back 
and  laughed.  "But  you  were  whipped  in  earnest,"  I 
said. 

"Yes,  but  it  didn't  hurt.  Ho,  think  that  old  shoe 
could  hurt  me!  Let's  go  in  swimming?" 

We  snatched  off  our  clothes  and  into  the  water  we 
plunged,  but  a  damper  was  put  upon  my  enjoyment, 
for  looking  up  I  saw  the  doctor  standing  near  the 
bank.  A  bandage  was  over  one  eye,  and  with  the 
other  one  he  gave  me  a  hard  and  evil  look. 

"You  boys  get  out  of  there,"  he  commanded.  Bob 
rebelled  against  his  order,  but  I  obeyed,  and  as  I  was 
putting  on  my  clothes  he  came  up,  cut  at  my  bare  legs 
with  a  switch,  doing  so,  I  suppose,  to  leave  no  doubt  as 
to  his  presence.  "Hurry  up,"  he  said.  "Go  and  catch 
my  horse;  I  want  to  go  to  town." 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  4} 

Bob  came  out.  "He  don't  have  to  catch  your  horse, 
Brother  George.  Make  Sam  catch  your  horse.  Dan 
belongs  to  me." 

"I  have  heard  enough  of  that  and  I  don't  want  to 
hear  any  more,"  the  doctor  replied.  "Go  catch  my 
horse,"  he  added,  turning  to  me. 

"I  will  if  Mars.  Bob  says  so,"  I  replied 

"You'll  do  it  if  I  say  so." 

"No,  I  won't." 

He  rushed  at  me  with  his  switch,  but  I  dodged, 
leaped  into  the  water  and  swam  to  the  opposite  shore. 
Bob  clapped  his  hands  in  glee,  and  the  doctor  shook 
his  switch  at  me.  "I've  had  my  eye  on  you  for  some 
time,  you  impudent  scoundrel,"  he  shouted,  "and  the 
first  thing  you  know,  I'll  skin  you  alive.  You  can 
keep  out  of  my  way  for  a  while,  but  not  always.  See 
this?"  he  cried,  tapping  his  bandaged  head.  "I  know 
— and  I'll  make  you  pay  for  it." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

I  hid  about  the  place  during  the  day,  sometimes 
peeping-  at  the  doctor  from  the  hay-loft,  sometimes 
dodging  behind  a  cabin  to  keep  out  of  his  way,  con 
stantly  wishing  that  Old  Master  might  come ;  and  late 
in  the  afternoon  I  saw  him  walking  in  the  garden  with 
his  hands  behind  him.  The  doctor  was  not  far  away, 
and  I  knew  that  he  would  discover  me  if  I  should  dart 
out  from  my  hiding  place,  but  I  did  finally  and  he 
yelled  at  me,  but  I  ran  to  Old  Master,  looking  back  in 
fright  as  I  approached  him. 

"Tut,  tut,  there!"  he  cried.  "What  are  you  run 
ning  about  this  way  for,  tramping  down  everything? 
First  thing  you  know  I'll  give  you  another  whipping 
within  an  inch  of  your  life!" 

"Marster!"  I  cried,  clinging  to  him,  "the  doctor  is 
after  me!" 

"Well,  he  won't  get  you.  Turn  me  loose.  Hang 
about  near  me,  but  don't  let  your  mistress  see  you. 
The  doctor's  going  away  to-morrow  to  be  gone  some 
time.  Here  he  comes  now.  Go  on  to  the  house." 

(42) 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  43 

I  passed  the  doctor,  skirting  far  into  a  flower  bed  to 
give  him  plenty  of  room;  he  glowered  at  me  and 
said  nothing.  But  I  knew  that  he  would  let  slip  no 
opportunity  to  harm  me,  and  that  night  Bob  and  I 
barricaded  our  door.  He  had  an  old  horse  pistol  that 
wouldn't  shoot,  and  I  had  a  broken  saber,  and  we  took 
turn  about  standing  guard  behind  our  breast-works. 
"You've  been  there  long  enough.  Come  on  and  lie 
down  and  let  me  stay  there  awhile?"  he  would  say; 
and  he  never  failed  to  add:  "And  you  must  pretend 
like  you're  asleep." 

At  morning  I  awoke  in  bed  and  found  Bob  asleep 
behind  the  barricade.  I  aroused  him,  and  he  jumped 
up  and  declared  that  he  had  stood  guard  all  night,  and 
hadn't  slept  a  wink.  I  pretended  to  believe  him,  and 
he  rewarded  me  with  a  crock  marble  and  a  biscuit 
covered  with  sugar. 

Early  that  morning  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
my  enemy,  the  doctor,  leave  the  plantation,  and  then 
followed  a  day  of  happiness,  playing  up  and  down  the 
creek.  At  the  house  one  other  enemy  was  left,  Old 
Miss,  but  I  did  not  hate  her,  for  her  dislike  of  me 
could  be  none  other  than  a  divine  right,  something 
which  I  would  not  permit  myself  to  question.  She 
was  cold  and  proud,  and  rarely  did  she  give  way  to 


44 

the  affection  which  she  must  have  felt  for  her  own 
children.  It  was  said  that  she  could  trace  her  origin 
back  to  great  warriors,  and  this  gave  a  reason  for  her 
pride  and  her  coldness;  but  Old  Master's  forefathers 
also  were  great  fighters  and  statesmen,  and  yet 
he  was  warm-hearted  and  sympathetic.  Aunt  Mag 
told  me  that  Old  Miss  had  refused  to  marry  Henry 
Clay  because  he  was  poor,  and  had  always  regretted 
it,  but  I  could  not  see  why,  for  surely  my  master  was 
as  great  as  Clay. 

The  evening  after  the  doctor  left  us,  I  was  lying  on 
the  ground  near  the  stone  steps  leading  to  the  broad 
hall,  when  I  heard  Master  and  Old  Miss  talking. 
They  were  sitting  on  the  portico  and  did  not  see  me. 

"I  told  him,"  said  Master,  "that  he  might  draw  on 
me  for  what  money  he  actually  needs,  but  that  I  would 
put  up  with  no  extravagance.  Of  course,  he  has  a 
sort  of  a  claim,  but  I  don't  intend  that  he  shall 
embarrass  me  in  any  way." 

She  cleared  her  throat  with  a  rasp  that  always  made 
me  shudder.  "He  surely  has  a  claim,"  she  replied. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  said,  didn't  I?" 

"Yes,  but  you  seem  to  think  that  it  is  not  much  of  a 
claim." 

"I  don't  seem  to  think  anything  of  the  sort     He 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  45 

shall  have  everything  that  is  due  him.  But,  madam, 
the  truth  of  it  is,  he  is  of  no  account." 

"He  is  a  gentleman." 

"In  what  way?"  I  peeped  up  and  saw  him  look 
hard  at  her.  "In  what  way  has  he  shown  himself  a 
gentleman?" 

"He  was  born  a  gentleman,"  Old  Miss  replied. 

"Born  one,  yes.  His  father  and  mother  may  have 
been  good  stock,  but  I  tell  you  that  he's  a  scrub.  Still 
I  will  give  him  what's  due  him." 

"Oh,  I  know  that." 

"Then  there  needn't  be  any  further  discussion  about 
it." 

"No,"  she  said,  "not  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 
And  after  a  pause  she  asked:  "What's  your  object 
in  sending  Bob  over  to  school  at  Lay  field?" 

"To  learn  something,  of  course." 

"But  why  can't  he  go  to  school  at  home?  Can't  he 
learn  something  here?" 

"We  have  had  a  teacher  for  him  here  and  he  has 
done  no  good." 

"Yes,  but  can't  you  send  him  to  school  at  the  Acad 
emy  in  town?" 

"I  could  do  it,  of  course,  but  I  would  rather  have 
him  go  away.  It  will  make  him  more  important  in* 


46  MY   YOUNG   MASTER 

his  own  estimation — wHl  give  him  more  confidence  in 
himself." 

"Is  Dan  going  with  him?" 

"Oh,  I  knew  what  you  were  driving  at.  Yes,"  he 
almost  shouted,  "Dan  is  going  with  him." 

"I  don't  see  why.     Why  not  send  Sam  with  him?"" 

"Madam,  is  it  necessary  to  explain  to  you  that  Dan 
is  the  property — property — " 

"I  know  all  about  that.  But  they  are  too  much  like 
companions,  and  will  study  together." 

He  looked  hard  at  her.  "Study  together?  And 
what  of  that?" 

"I  don't  want  a  child  of  mine  studying  with  a  negro. 
He  has  no  business  to  study.  He  knows  enough 
already!  Educate  him  and  he  will  be  of  no  account 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.  I  never  knew  it  to  fail. 
Mason  had  an  educated  negro,  and  what  became  of 
him?  He  ran  away  and  went  north  and  told  a  pack 
of  lies  about  the  people  in  this  State,  about  the  cruel 
ties  he  had  suffered,  and  the  abolition  papers  are  still 
harping  on  it." 

"Yes,  that's  all  true  enough,"  said  Old  Master, 
"but  in  Dan's  case  it  will  be  different.  He  is  not  likely 
to  pick  up  much  learning,  and  besides  he's  grateful. 
He'll  never  run  away." 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  4«J 

;I  have  b«en  thinking,"  she  said,  "that  we  might — " 

"Might  do  what?"  Master  snapped  before  she  had 
finished. 

"Well,  you  know  how  much  the  doctor  desires  that 
boy.  Why  not  let  him — " 

"Madam!"  Master  thundered,  "don't  you  know  that 
the  boy  belongs  to  Bob?  How  long  will  it  take  you  to 
learn  that?  Must  I  keep  forever  dinging  it  into  your 
ears?" 

"Well,  you  needn't  get  mad  about  it." 

"That's  true,  and  I  beg  your  pardon.  But  just  let 
me  manage  it,  if  you  please.  I  believe  you  said  yes 
terday  that  our  carriage  is  getting  too  old  for  you  to 
ride  about  in?" 

"Yesterday?  I  have  talked  about  it  for  the  past 
year!" 

"Yes,  so  you  have.  Well,  you  may  go  to  Louis 
ville  yourself  and  select  one  to  suit  you." 

That  night  I  told  Bob  that  we  were  going  off  to 
school  together,  and  we  grabbed  each  other  in  our 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  next  day  we  were  bundled  off  to  school,  dis 
tant  more  than  thirty  miles,  driven  by  the  family 
coachman.  Old  Master  and  Old  Miss  walked  with 
us  as  far  as  the  big  gate  that  opened  into  a  street  of  the 
town.  I  say,  walked  with  us,  but  they  walked  with 
Bob,  I  keeping  close  pace  behind,  constantly  afraid 
that  my  mistress  would  turn  upon  me  with  her  stout 
parasol,  yet  too  discreet  to  fall  farther  back,  lest  I 
might  by  this  show  of  caution  call  her  wrath  upon  me. 
At  the  gate,  when  the  driver  got  off  his  seat  and  stood 
by  the  open  door  of  the  carriage,  Old  Miss  put  her 
arms  about  Bob,  with  more  of  affection  than  I  had  ever 
seen  her  show,  and  bade  him  be  a  good  boy  and  keep 
his  mind  on  his  book.  She  kissed  him  time  and  again 
and  then  she  turned  to  me,  Old  Master  standing  there 
waiting  for  the  end  of  her  part  of  the  ceremony: 
"Dan,"  she  said,  "I  want  you  to  black  his  shoes  every 
morning."  This,  with  the  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  with 
sorrow  in  her  voice,  touched  a  foolish  sense  within  me 
and  I  giggled,  dodging  wisely  as  I  did  so;  and  it  was 

(48) 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  49 

well  that  I  did,  for  in  a  fury  she  struck  at  me  with  her 
parasol.  "The  infamous  imp!"  she  cried,  "standing 
there  laughing  at  me.  General,"  she  demanded, 
stamping  the  ground,  "wear  your  cane  out  on  him.  I 
won't  be  treated  in  such  a  manner — I  won't  put  up 
with  everything  from  that  ape." 

My  impulse  was  to  run,  but  I  killed  it  with  a  gentler 
resolve;  I  dropped  upon  my  knees  in  the  dust  of  the 
road  and  humbly  begged  her  pardon.  This  act  of 
grace  was  most  effective.  This  humility,  done,  I 
fancy,  with  some  show  of  gallantry,  won  her  for  the 
moment,  and  bowing  to  me  she  said:  "I  know 
you  didn't  mean  it,  Dan.  There,  go  on  and  be  a  good 
boy." 

We  bade  them  good-bye  and  were  rolled  away,  and 
hour  after  hour,  amid  the  changing  scenes  of  that 
charming  country,  a  vision  of  that  woman  stood  before 
me,  bowing,  and  my  heart  was  warmer  toward  her 
than  it  had  ever  been.  Strange,  and  now  almost 
incomprehensible  life  —  absolute  despotism  in  free 
America. 

The  Layfield  school  was  set  among  romantic  hills. 
As  a  seat  of  learning,  it  was  unpretentious.  The  main 
bouse,  was  of  brick,  with  dormer  windows  and  green 
blinds;  the  other  buildings  were  cottages,  mostly  of 


50  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

logs,  scattered  along  a  shaded  avenue,  leading  down 
to  the  banks  of  a  green  river;  and  I  remember  that  the 
first  sight  of  this  great  stream  (it  must  have  been  fifty 
feet  wide,  but  it  was  an  Amazon  to  me,  fresh  from  the  little 
creek  running  through  the  pasture)  thrilled  me  with 
a  mysterious  delight.  Upon  a  near  approach  though, 
I  was  disappointed,  not  at  its  size,  but  at  its  quietude; 
for  if  our  creek  could  sing,  why  did  not  this  river 
shout?  And  it  gave  no  sound  save  a  low  murmur 
almost  as  still  as  silence. 

The  master  of  Layfield  Academy  was  an  old  man 
with  long,  white  hair.  He  received  us  most  kindly 
and  himself  went  with  us  to  the  cottage  we  were  to 
occupy,  together  with  a  number  of  boys,  sons  of 
wealthy  men,  many  of  them  attended  by  the  unmis 
takable  mark  of  Blue  Grass  gentility — the  favored 
slave.  And  it  was  not  without  a  feeling  of  pride  that 
I  heard  a  young  fellow  say,  "Gradley's  got  the  best- 
looking  nigger  in  the  crowd."  My  master  and  I  occu 
pied  a  small,  but  comfortable  room,  that  is,  comfort 
able  for  him,  but  with  regard  to  me,  the  line  was 
closer  drawn  than  it  had  been  at  home,  for  inste.ad  of 
sleeping  upon  a  lounge,  I  was  assigned  to  a  rug  upon 
the  floor.  Bob  did  not  like  this,  and  he  grumbled  to 
the  Master  and  was  told  very  emphatically  that  he 


MY  YOTTNG   MASTER  51 

must  not  seek  to  interfere  with  the  time-honored  regu 
lations  of  that  great  educational  household.  I  soon 
found  that  my  life  here  was  not  to  be  altogether  peace 
ful,  for  the  spirit  of  rivalry  existing  among  the  young 
masters  extended  to  the  slaves.  And  of  a  Saturday 
those  blood-loving  spirits  would  match  their  "niggers" 
against  one  another  like  cocks  in  a  pit  and  bet  on  the 
result.  My  master  was  too  young  to  be  a  leader,  but 
he  was  forced  to  take  a  part  in  the  sport,  and  it 
redounded  to  my  credit  when  I  bloodied  the  flat  nose 
of  a  black  fellow  who  strove  to  knock  me  out  of  a  ring. 
This  made  Bob  an  important  factor,  gave  him  a  new 
bearing,  and  I  remember  that  I  lay  down  upon  my 
rug  with  a  feeling  of  pride. 

"Oh,  we'll  show  'em  what's  what,"  Bob  declared. 
"And  after  I  whip  Saunders,  we'll  be  way  up." 

"But  do  you  think  you  can  whip  him?"  I  asked. 

The  moon  was  shining  into  our  room  and  I  saw 
him  rise  up  in  bed.  "Why,  of  course  I  can.  And  the 
fight  is  set  for  to-morrow." 

"He's  bigger'n  you,"  I  remarked. 

"Yes,  but  he  hasn't  got  the  blood.  His  people  don't 
amount  to  anything.  You  just  wait." 

I  had  to  wait,  but  it  was  not  with  any  great  confi 
dence,  for  Saunders  was  a  lusty  youth.  I  expressed 


52 

no  further  fear,  however,  and  early  in  the  morning  I 
rubbed  my  master  down  with  a  coarse  towel  and  with 
him  set  out  for  the  battle  ground.  Saunders  was 
already  there,  with  a  party  of  boys  about  him,  feeling 
the  muscles  in  his  arms.  The  affair  was  conducted 
with  great  secrecy,  and  each  warrior  had  to  promise 
that  in  case  his  teeth  were  knocked  out  he  would  swear 
that  he  had  fallen  down.  I  was  nervous.  The  negro 
boys  looking  at  me,  shook  their  heads.  The  line  was 
drawn  and  the  combatants  stationed.  The  word  was 
given  and  I  looked  away.  Then  followed  the  sound 
of  quick  blows — then  came  a  shout,  all  before  I  looked 
toward  the  ring.  And  when  I  did  look,  I  saw  Saund 
ers  on  the  ground.  I  threw  up  my  hat  and  shouted, 
whereupon  a  yellow  fellow  who  belonged  to  Saunders 
struck  me.  Well,  when  we  went  back  to  our  quarters 
my  master  and  I  both  were  heroes.  And  now,  having 
established  his  standing,  Young  Master  was  permitted 
to  enter  upon  his  studies.  This  had  all  happened 
within  a  week. 

It  was  here  that  a  desire  to  learn  first  took  strong 
hold  of  me.  Of  course  I  did  not  presume  to  own  a 
book,  or  to  study  one  except  at  night,  when  Bob  and 
I  were  alone.  In  a  negro  any  show  of  intellectual 
ambition  was  looked  upon  as  a  rebellion  against  the 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  53 

unwritten  law  of  society,  and  thus  to  steal  the  mind- 
mysteries  that  made  the  white  man  great  was  doubly 
sweetened.  I  kept  so  good  a  pace  with  Bob  that  in 
me  he  sometimes  found  a  helper  over  rough  places, 
and- 1  even  now  recall  with  pride  that  one  night  he 
looked  at  me  admiringly  and  said :  "Dan,  it's  a  shame 
that  you  ain't  a  white  boy." 

At  the  end  of  the  fourth  week,  Old  Master  and  Old 
Miss  drove  over  in  the  carriage.  The  president  of  the 
school  met  them  with  great  ceremony  and  would  not 
let  them  rest  until  he  had  shown  them  through  his 
establishment.  Bob  went  with  them  and  I  was  per 
mitted  to  hang  behind,  upon  the  implied  condition  that 
I  was  not  to  hear  anything  that  was  said.  But  I  did 
hear  and  I  remembered.  In  one  corner  of  the  main 
recitation  room  was  a  globe  and  shelves  holding 
numerous  books,  to  me  the  most  learned  spot  in  the 
world;  and  here  the  company  halted. 

"These  books,"  said  the  president,  "are  kept  here 
in  constant  view  of  the  student  to  stimulate  his  ambi 
tion,  to  force  upon  his  mind  the  power  and  the  import 
ance  of  thought.  He  has  heard  of  the  earth's  great 
minds,  and  here  he  finds  the  fruit  of  those  minds.  I 
do  not  believe  in  shutting  books  in  a  stuffy  room,  sir; 
they  ought  to  be  where  the  sun-light,  the  companion  of 


54  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

learning,  can  constantly  fall  upon  them.  Ah,  and  I 
am  sure  that  as  time  passes  your  son  will  draw  many 
a  draft  from  this  well.  Won't  you,  Robert?" 

Bob  looked  at  him,  while  his  parents  waited  for  his 
answer,  and  said:  "I  like  books  with  pictures  in  'em." 

"Ah,  quite  a  shrewd  remark,"  declared  the  presi 
dent,  putting  his  hand  upon  Bob's  head.  "His 
thought  turns  upon  art,  no  mean  branch  of  learning,  I 
assure  you.  Of  course,  he  is  as  yet  too  young  to  be 
consulted,  General,  but  have  you  thought  upon  any 
profession  for  him?" 

"The  law,"  Old  Master  answered. 

"The  ministry,"  said  Old  Miss. 

"Maw,  what's  that?"  Bob  asked. 

"I  want  you  to  be  a  preacher,"  his  mother  replied, 
drawing  him  toward  her,  buttoning  his  jacket  and 
then  unbuttoning  it. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  a  preacher.  They  don't  have 
any  fun!" 

"Hush,  sir,"  she  said.  "Your  grandfather  was  a 
preacher." 

"But  he  didn't  have  any  fun.'* 

"Hush,  I  tell  you." 

"I  will,  but  did  he  have  any  fun?" 

Old  Master  chuckled  and  Mistress  £ave  him  a  sour 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  55 

look.  The  president  coughed.  "Both  the  law  and 
the  ministry  are  learned  professions,"  he  said,  "and  I 
have  no  doubt  that  our  little  man  would  grace  either 
calling." 

•'Bob,"  said  Mistress,  "show  me  your  sleeping  room. 
You  needn't  come  with  us,"  she  added,  speaking  to 
the  president.  "We  will  not  presume  to  take  up  any 
more  of  your  time — you've  been  so  very,  very  kind,  I 
assure  you." 

I  think  that  the  president  would  have  urged  his 
attendance,  but  that  he  was  afraid  to  show  how  much 
;ime  he  could  spare,  so  he  bowed  and  said :  "I  thank 
you  for  the  confidence  you  have  reposed  in  me,  placing 
your  son  in  my  charge,  and  I  assure  you  that  I  shall 
do  my  utmost  by  him.  Now,  make  yourselves  per 
fectly  at  home." 

Old  Miss  turned  up  her  nose  when  she  entered  our 
room.  "Whew,  it  smells  like  a  bear's  den,"  she  said, 
and  Old  Master's  spare  frame  shook  with  laughter. 
"And  for  pity  sake,  what  have  you  got  in  this  cup?" 
she  asked,  looking  at  a  tin  can  on  a  table. 

"Fish-worm  oil,"  Bob  spoke  up  rather  proudly. 
"We  dug  the  worms  and  roasted  their  oil  out.  Rub  it 
on  my  legs  so  I  can  run  fast." 

Master  snorted  and  Mistress  turned  to  me.     "Dan," 


56  MY  TOtTNG   MASTER 

she  asked,  clearing  her  throat  with  a  dry  rasp,  "isn't 
this  one  of  your  negro  superstitions?  Didn't  you  put 
him  up  to  it?" 

"Madam,"  said  Old  Master  before  I  could  reply, 
"the  knowledge  of  the  efficacy  of  angle-worm  oil 
comes  down  from  the  ancients  and  I  am  astonished 
that  you  should  impute  it  to  negro  superstition. 
Leander,  before  trusting  himself  to  the  torrent  of  the 
Hellespont,  rubbed  himself  with  it,  and  if  you  read 
closely,  you  will  find  that  Byron  went  through  the 
same  performance  before  tempting  the  same  feat. 
Haven't  you  read  of  the  angle-worm  oil  bearer  at  the 
Olympian  games?" 

He  slyly  turned  his  face  away  to  laugh,  and  Old 
Miss,  like  all  pretentious  persons,  afraid  of  the  weapon 
of  wisdom,  was  willing  enough  to  change  the  subject. 
"I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  learning,"  she  said  to 
Bob,  "but  I  don't  want  you  to  learn  things  that  will  be 
of  no  particular  use  to  you.  By  the  way,  General,  I 
don't  want  you  to  school  him  into  the  notion  of  becom 
ing  a  lawyer  or  a  doctor." 

"Surely  not  a  doctor,"  Master  replied.  "We  have 
one  doctor  in  the  family  and  he  is  quite  sufficient — 
unto  himself.  What's  that  in  the  Bible,  'sufficient  unto 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  57 

the  day  is  the  evil  thereof  ?  That's  it.  Well  it  suits 
him  any  way. ' ' 

Old  Miss  sat  down,  gathering  her  skirts  that  they 
might  touch  nothing.  "General,  that's  no  way  to 
talk,"  she  said.  She  looked  about  and  cried  suddenly: 
"Why,  is  that  a  poultice  there  on  the  mantle-piece?" 

"Boxing  glove,"  said  Bob,  and  Old  Master  roared 
again. 

"General!"  she  spoke  up  in  sharp  reproof,  "I  do 
wish  you  wouldn't  stimulate  disrespect  by  your  con 
stant  tittering  and  teheeing.  One  would  think  that 
you  had  sent  the  boy  here  as  a  monster  joke.  To  send 
a  child  away  from  home  is  no  jest,  I  assure  you." 

"Madam,"  said  Master,  winking  at  us,  lifting  the 
tails  of  his  long  coat  and  seating  himself  on  a  corner 
of  the  table,  "it  makes  me  young  again  to  come  into  a 
place  like  this,  and  being  young  I  must  be  foolish. 
Well,"  he  added  after  a  pause,  "do  you  want  to  stay 
here  to-night,  or  shall  we  stop  on  the  road?" 

"We  might  as  well  go,"  she  answered,  getting  up. 
"There's  nothing  to  be  done  here.  Bob,  you  must 
write  to  me  every  other  day.  And  Dan,  I  want  you 
to  see  that  his  shoes  are  blacked  every  morning." 
And  here,  remembering  the  disrespect  that  I  had 
shown  her  in  the  road,  she  seized  her  parasol  as  if  to 


strike  me.  But  with  hypocritical  gallantry  (shrewd 
rascal  that  I  was)  I  dropped  upon  one  knee,  caught 
her  hand  impulsively  and  assured  her  that  my  young 
master's  comfort  and  good  appearance  should  be  the 
study  of  my  life.  And  in  her  eyes  there  was  a  light  of 
real  kindliness.  "There,  get  up,"  she  said.  "I  am 
glad  to  see  that  you  are  improving.  General,  we  may 
make  a  respectable  servant  of  him  yet." 

When  the  carriage  had  rolled  away,  Bob  and  I  ran 
back  to  the  room,  locked  the  door,  rubbed  our  joints 
with  the  fish-worm  oil  and  wrestled  with  each  other  in 
ecstasy, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

How  hallowed  and  sun-glinted  that  school  life  now 
seems  to  me.  Many  a  grave  has  been  opened  and 
closed,  the  roots  of  many  a  greenbriar  is  embedded  in 
the  ashes  of  a  heart  that  was  once  alive  with  fire,  the 
fierce  passion  of  life.  The  sun  is  still  shining,  and  the 
arch  of  God's  many-hued  lithograph  is  still  seen  in  the 
sky,  and  hearts  have  fire  shut  within  them,  but  I  won 
der  if  the  sun  is  as  bright  as  it  was  in  the  long  ago,  if 
the  rain-bow  is  as  purple,  if  the  fire  in  the  heart  is  as 
glowing.  Ah,  and  I  know  that  my  grand-children,  in 
the  far-away  years  to  come,  will  lean  feebly  upon  the 
gate  and  wonder  if  the  world  is  as  full  of  light  as  it  was. 
Every  emotion  you  have  felt  you  may  know  has  been 
felt  by  other  men.  It  is  this  that  makes  nearly  all 
poetry  seem  old ;  it  is  this  that  sends  true  poetry  to  the 
human  heart. 

I  will  not  linger  over  those  days  at  school ,  I  have 
sought  thus  far  to  picture  my  early  life,  not  that  it  held 
incident,  but  that  it  revealed  a  condition.  Time  has  been 
so  sweeping,  the  hot  blast  that  blew  from  the  North 

(59) 


60  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

was  so  scorching,  and  left  such  dried  and  brittle 
where  green  memories  grew,  that  the  youth  of  to-day 
can  scarcely  bring  himself  to  comprehend  that  strange 
democratic  absolutism  which  once  existed  in  the 
South.  And  I  wonder  now  that  it  could  have  lasted 
so  long,  though  for  years  the  wonder  was  that  it  could 
so  soon  have  been  broken  up.  How  odd  now  it  would 
seem  to  point  out  a  man  and  say,  "He  once  owned,  in 
this  land  of  freedom,  a  hundred  human  beings — owned 
them  in  body,  but  Christian-like  yielded  to  God  the 
direction  of  their  souls." 

During  the  regular  sessions,  until  he  had  reached 
his  eighteenth  year,  my  young  master  attended  the 
Layfield  Academy,  and  then  he  was  entered  at  Center 
College.  I  had  kept  well  up  with  him,  a  dead  secret 
between  us,  for  Old  Mistress  had  more  than  once  made 
him  promise  that  I  should  be  kept  down  upon  the  ser 
vants'  proper  level.  But  the  secret  was  discovered  and 
once  it  was  held  threateningly  over  me. 

Bob  and  I  were  home  to  spend  the  Christmas  holi 
days.  On  the  plantation  was  an  Ethiopian  Lothario, 
named  Steve,  and  one  evening  in  his  cabin  he  asked 
me  if  I  would  write  for  him  a  letter  to  a  mulatto  girl 
who  lived  on  a  distant  farm.  "I  want  you,"  said  he, 
"ter  fling  in  jest  ez  much  sweet  pizen  ez  you  kin,  caze 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  (ft 

I  lubs  dat  lady  an'  her  head  is  monstus  high.  I  yered 
de  white  preacher  say  sumfin  dat  he  'lowed  wuz  frum 
de  dead  language.  An'  kain't  you  ^ash  in  er  little  o' 
dat  dead  talk?  I  know  it'll  fetch  her  "aze  dat  preach 
er's  dead  talk  fotch  me." 

"How  do  you  know  I  can  write?"  I  asked,  for  I  had 
curbed  the  pedantic  instinct  of  the  negro  blood  within 
me  and  except  to  a  few  trusted  friends  had  dropped  no 
hint  that  I  could  even  read. 

"Oh,  I  'lowed  dat  ez  smart  er  boy  ez  you  gwine  oft 
ter  school  an'  college  wid  his  young  marster  oughter 
larn  how  ter  do  dat.  Will  you  write  de  letter  fur  me?" 

I  wrote  him  a  screed  that  made  his  eyes  snap  when 
I  read  it  to  him.  It  was  a  mixture  of  cold  Latin  gram 
mar  and  warm  persuasion.  "Ah,  Lawd,"  he  said  as  he 
sat,  tallowing  his  Sunday  shoes,  "ef  dat  doan  fetch  her 
she  ain't  ter  be  fotch."  He  folded  the  letter,  and  when 
he  had  put  it  into  his  pocket  he  turned  upon  me.  "Oh, 
yas,  you  goes  off  ter  school  an'  Tarns  dead  talk  an*  de 
rest  o'  us  hatter  sweat  in  de  fiel'.  An'  de  fust  thing  we 
knows  you'll  be  crossin'  de  Ohio  riber  ter  make 
speeches  'mong  dem  'litionists.  I'm  gwine  tell  Ole 
Miss." 

"What!"  I  cried,  "after  I  have  written  a  letter  for 
you?" 


62  MY  YOTJNG  MASTER 

"Oh,  I  kain't  hep  de  letter.  Dat  wuz  er — wuz  er 
matter  o'  fack.  But  it  ain't  er  matter  o'  fack  dat  you'se 
been  trying  ter  put  yo-se'f  up  'mong  de  white  fo'ks, 
er  turnin'  up  yo'  nose  at  us  caze  you'se  whiter  an'  got 
mo'  dead  talk  den  we  has." 

"Steve,"  I  pleaded,  "please  don't  tell  her.  I  couldn't 
help  learning  something,  and  I  pledge  you  my  word 
that  I  don't  know  much.  Why,  there  are  hundreds  of 
negroes  all  about  here  that  can  read  as  well  as  I  can 
and  their  masters  think  nothing  of  it." 

"Doan  you  fool  yo'se'f  'bout  dat,  honey.  Dar's  er 
heap  said  erbout  it.  Da  reads  dem  little  flat  books  ter 
de  uder  niggers  an'  da  gits  whupped  fur  it,  too.  And 
de  fust  thing  we  knows  you'll  be  readin'  trouble  on  dis 
plan'ation.  I'm  gwine  ter  de  house  in  de  mornin'  an' 
tell  Ole  Miss." 

"Yes,  and  if  you  do,  I'll  have  you  whipped.  Young 
Master  won't  put  up  with  such  an  interference  with  his 
affairs.  I  belong  to  him  and  not  to  Old  Miss." 

"Ah,  hah,  but  whut  Ole  Miss  say  comes  mighty 
nigh  bein'  law  sometimes.  I'se  had  my  eye  on  you  fur 
er  laung  time,  an'  I'd  like  might'ly  ter  see  you  out 
yander  in  de  fiel'  er  brilin*  er  laung  side  o'  me." 

I  argued  with  him,  threatened  him,  but  it  was  of  no 
use.  He  shook  his  head  and  declared  that  he  would 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  63 

tell  Old  Miss.  And  the  next  day  he  proved  his  mean 
nature.  I  kept  a  close  watch  on  him  and  saw  him 
start  toward  the  house  just  as  Old  Miss  stepped  out 
upon  the  veranda.  I  can  see  him  now,  wool  hat  under 
arm,  bowing  to  her.  I  knew  that  he  expected  a  reward 
and  I  wondered  what  it  would  be.  She  listened^ 
and  greatly  to  my  surprise  replied :  "Well,  I  hope  he'll 
learn  enough  to  behave  himself." 

"But  goodness  me,  Ole  Miss,  ain't  you  gwine  gib 
me  suthin'  fur  all  dis?"  the  rascally  tell-tale  pleaded. 

She  took  out  a  small  piece  of  money,  tossed  it  to  him 
and  said :  "There.  And  now  I  want  you  to  remember 
one  thing — don't  come  to  me  with  any  more  stories." 

She  saw  me  as  I  dodged  behind  a  corner  of  the 
dairy,  and  called  me  to  her.  "Dan,"  she  said  as  I  came 
up  the  steps,  "I  thought  you  had  more  sense  than  to 
create  jealousies  by  exhibiting  the  crumbs  of  knowl 
edge  your  master  has  permitted  you  to  pick  from 
under  his  table?" 

I  looked  at  her  in  surprise;  surely  the  idea  was  not 
her  own,  but  in  her  expression  of  it  there  was  almost  a 
majestic  rebuke.  I  can  see  her  now  as  she  stood,  her 
gray  eyes  fixed  upon  me,  her  silver-streaked  hair 
parted  flat,  a  bunch  of  authoritative  keys  hanging  from 
her  girdle.  I  gave  her  the  all  effective  knee-bend  of 


64  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

submission,  and  recounted  briefly  the  manner  In  which 
the  black  rascal  had  snared  me.  This  amused  her  and 
she  laughed  with  a  cold  cackle,  but  she  did  not  strike 
me  with  her  keys,  as  I  had  feared  she  would,  though 
the  memory  of  that  feelingless  laugh  lived  with  me 
longer  than  the  ache  of  a  blow  would  have  lasted  on 
my  head.  Old  Master  came  walking  slowly  out  of  the 
hall,  with  his  spectacles  on  and  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand.  "Madam,"  he  said,  "Doctor  Bates  is  coming 
back.  Dan,  saddle  the  sorrel  horse  and  bring  him 
round  to  the  front  gate." 

I  hastened  to  the  stable,  musing  upon  the  return  of 
that  trouble-brewing  man.  He  had  been  home  a  num 
ber  of  times  while  Bob  and  I  were  off  at  school,  but  I 
had  not  seen  him.  More  than  once  I  had  half  sus 
pected  that  he  sought  to  marry  Miss  May,  to  fasten 
another  grip  upon  the  estate,  but  it  did  not  seem  possi 
ble  that  so  gentle  a  woman  could  marry  so  hard  a  man. 
Yet,  I  was  wise  enough  to  know  that  we  can  never  tell. 
A  woman's  heart  is  like  a  bird,  beating  upon  the  win 
dow  at  night,  dazzled  by  the  promise  of  a  warmth 
within  a  glowing  room,  and  seeing  not  an  icy  cruelty 
sitting  beside  the  fire,  lying  in  wait  for  a  tender  victim. 

While  I  was  holding  the  horse,  waiting  for  Master 
to  mount,  he  paused,  with  his  hand  on  the  horn  of  the 


aiY  YOUNG   MASTER 

saddle  and  said:  "Dan,  when  your  Mars.  George  gets 
here,  I  want  you  to  treat  him  with  the  greatest  respect. 
Do  you  hear?" 

"Master,"  I  replied  grandiloquently,  "I  might  fail 
to  hear  it  thunder,  but  I  cannot  fail  to  hear  what  you 
say." 

He  looked  at  me  and  remarked:  "Look  here,  you 
are  getting  to  be  a  good  deal  of  a  d — d  fool."  But  I 
saw  him  chuckling  as  he  turned  his  head  away,  and  I 
knew  that  he  was  pleased.  Masters  liked  the  flattery 
of  their  slaves,  and  this  is  the  reason  that  there  is  so 
much  cozenage,  even  in  the  negro  of  to-day. 

"Do  you  know  why  he  is  coming  back?"  I  ventured 
to  ask. 

"Coming  back  because  this  is  his  home,  sir.  And  I 
don't  want  you  to  presume  to  ask  such  questions,  sir. 
Well,"  he  said,  noticing  that  I  was  still  holding  the 
bridle,  "are  you  going  to  let  me  go,  or  must  I  stand 
here  until  you  are  ready  to  release  me?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  replied,  stepping  back. 

"All  right,"  he  said  as  he  rode  away,  and  looking 
back  he  added :  "Remember  that  I  want  you  to  treat 
him  with  the  greatest  of  respect." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Doctor  Bates  came  two  days  later  and  I  saw  him  at 
breakfast  a?  I  stood  behind  my  Young  Master's  chair, 
I  was  surprised  to  see  that  the  years  had  touched  him 
so  lightly.  Indeed,  he  appeared  but  little  older  than 
at  the  time  I  had  hrown  the  glass  tumbler  at  his  head. 
And  this  set  me  to  a  study  of  all  the  faces  about  me. 
How  slowly  they  had  aged  while  Young  Master  and  I 
had  grown  so  fast!  The  doctor  was  dressed  beyond 
any  former  mood  of  neatness,  blue  broad-cloth  coat 
and  ruffled  shirt;  and  Miss  May  was  beautiful  in  a 
long,  beflowered  gown.  There  had  been  a  heavy  frost, 
and  a  low,  cheer-giving  roar  came  from  the  logs  in  the 
great  fire-place.  Outside  the  negroes  were  singing 
and  dancing  in  the  crisp  air.  The  looms  and  the  spin 
ning  wheels  were  hushed;  it  was  a  time  for  music,  for 
feasting,  for  jollification — a  whole  week  of  "colored 
freedom."  The  talk  at  the  table  was  full  of  jest,  for  in 
the  midst  of  the  company  was  a  great  bowl  of  egg- 
nog.  And  even  the  steely  eyes  of  my  old  mistress 
snapped  with  pleasant  mischief. 

(66) 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  <J7 

"Doctor,"  she  said,  "Dan  has  become  quite  a  stu 
dent,  and  he  writes  Latin  love-letters  for  black  Steve." 

"In  Latin  to  show  that  Steve  is  dead  in  love!"  the 
doctor  roared,  shaking  his  ruffled  shirt  with  his  mirth. 
"But  I  should  think,"  he  added,  "that  a  woman  who 
could  love  him  must  be  color-blind." 

"Or  still  worse,  blind  to  all  sentiment,"  suggested 
Young  Master. 

"Or  left  alone  by  all  lovers,"  Miss  May  declared. 

"But,"  said  Old  Master,  "being  so  ill-favored  he 
may  be  faithful." 

"The  ugly  are  not  truer  than  the  beautiful,"  Miss 
May  spoke  up. 

The  doctor  bowed  to  her.  "I  am  glad  that  you 
assert  your  own  fidelity,"  he  said,  and  Young  Master 
looked  up  at  me.  Miss  May  blushed,  and  Old  Mis 
tress  said:  "Daughter,  that  was  a  charming  compli 
ment,  quite  worthy  of  a  Southern  gentleman." 

"And  accepted  by  a  Southern  lady — with  blushes," 
spoke  my  young  master,  and  I  felt  a  strong  impulse  to 
grasp  his  hand. 

"Ah,  Bob,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  are  improving. 
You  give  real  evidences  of  a  thoughtful  mind,  and  T 
have  no  doubt  that  you  will  make  a  great  lawyer." 
Here  he  looked  at  Old  Mistress. 


68  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"Yes,  lawyer,"  she  replied,  "for  I  have  given  up  the 
hope  of  his  becoming  a  minister.  He  does  not  take 
to  the  church." 

"Except  to  get  out  of  a  shower  of  rain,"  Bob  spoke 
up,  and  his  mother's  gray  eyes  stared  at  him  in  reproof: 
"Why,  Robert,  I  am  astonished  at  you."  Old  Master 
put  by  his  egg-nog  cup,  tittering  down  in  his  stock 
collar,  and  Old  Miss  turned  upon  him. 

"Such  encouragement  on  such  a  day!"  she  said. 

"Upon  days  of  merriment  it  is  meet  that  we  should 
laugh,"  Old  Master  replied. 

"And  not  bread  that  we  should  be  sad,"  said  Bob. 

At  this  Miss  May  laughed  a  stream  of  music,  clear 
and  rippling;  but  Old  Miss  rebuked  both  Bob  and  his 
sister  by  declaring  that  it  was  easy  enough  to  make  a 
wise  remark  appear  foolish.  Old  Master  had  begun 
to  laugh  at  everything,  for  up  to  the  great  yellow  bowl 
in  the  center  of  the  table  his  cup  had  been  passed  many 
times.  His  face  glowed  with  good  humor  and  he 
joked  with  the  doctor.  "Really  glad  to  see  you  back 
again,  George,"  the  old  man  said,  blinking  a  newly-felt 
welcome.  "We  never  know  how  much  we  think  of  a 
fellow  until  he's  gone.  By  the  Lord — " 

"Why,  General,"  Old  Mistress  cried  in  surprise. 

He  looked  at  her.    "Why,  what  did  I  say?    Said  I 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  00 

was  glad  to  see  him,  didn't  I,  and  I  am.  You 
know  it,  Hanna,  as  well  as  I  do.  Said  I  was  glad  to 
see  him,  and  you  don't  seem  to  believe  it.  Dan,  see 
that  a  hogshead  of  egg-nog  is  served  to  the  negroes." 

"Oh,  not  that  much!"  Old  Miss  protested. 

"Hanna,  I  said  a  hogshead,"  he  persisted,  blinking 
at  her,  "and  I  can't  forfeit  my  word.  Go  out  there,  Dan, 
and  tell  them  that  they  are  to  have  a  hogshead." 

That  night,  after  a  day  of  feast  and  an  evening  of 
good-natured  riot,  Bob  and  I  sat  in  our  room,  he  list 
ening,  and  I  reading  aloud  "The  Count  of  Monte 
Cristo."  During  the  day  and  the  evening,  amid  the 
gaiety  of  the  negro  quarter,  my  young  master  had 
laughed  with  as  loud  a  haw-haw  as  the  lustiest  buck 
on  the  plantation,  but  I  had  seen  that  at  times  his  face 
was  sad ;  had  heard  a  melancholy  note  sounding  under 
the  jig  tune  of  his  revelry. 

The  hour  was  late,  the  fire  was  growing  gray.  I  put 
the  book  aside  and  raked  the  chunks  together.  "We 
have  drunk  the  warm  light  and  now  we'll  drink  the 
cooling  dregs,"  he  said.  And  looking  at  him  I 
replied: 

"You  are  a  boy  but  sometimes  you  talk  like  an  old 
man." 

"And  act  like  a  fool,"  was  his*  quick  refdrt.   He  got 


70  MY  TOtTNG   MASTER 

up  quickly,  overturning  his  chair,  and  without  stop 
ping  to  right  it,  strode  slowly  up  and  down  the  room. 
He  walked  for  some  time,  with  his  eyes  cast  down,  half 
theatrical,  treading  the  forum,  for  his  reading  had  a 
deep  influence  upon  him;  and  then  he  halted  and 
turned  to  me. 

"Do  you  see  that  chair?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Why  don't  you  take  it  up?" 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  I  replied  (at  times  we  were  stiffly 
formal)  and  then  I  placed  the  chair  back  against  the 
wall.  He  resumed  his  walk  muttering  something,  and 
suddenly  his  stiff  forensic  bearing  became  lithely 
natural.  "Dan,"  he  said,  "do  you  know  what  I 
believe?"  and  before  I  had  time  to  reply,  he  continued: 
"I  believe  that  wolf  is  trying  to  marry  my  sister.  And 
I  want  to  say  this,  to  go  no  farther,  that  if  he  wins  her, 
I'll  cut  his  throat.  Mean  it?"  he  cried,  his  eyes  aflame, 
"I  mean  it  just  as  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in  Heaven. 
I  have  always  hated  that  man.  I  never  told  you  my 
first  recollection  of  him.  I  was  playing  alone  in  the 
yard,  sitting  under  a  tree.  I  was  very  young,  I  know, 
but  I  remember  it  well.  He  came  along  with  a  bone 
which  he  threw  to  his  dog,  and  then  he  bent  over  me 
and  wiped  his  greasy  hands  on  my  head.  I  howled  in 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  71 

anger,  and  someone  came ;  my  words  were  so  few  that 
I  could  not  set  forth  my  resentment."  He  strode  to 
the  door  and  then  hastily  came  back.  "He  is  a  snake, 
and  May  is  a  bird,  and  he  perhaps  can  charm  her,  but 
if  he  does,  I'll  let  the  blood  out  of  his  throat.  Father 
always  hated  him;  of  late  it  seems  that  he  is  giving 
way.  But  I  won't  give  way." 

"Mars.  Bob,  you  know  what  I  think  of  him.  One 
night  I  tried  to  kill  him,  and — " 

"Hush!"  he" cried,  glaring  at  me  fiercely.  "You  are 
old  enough  to  hang." 

"Flattering  growth,  looking  toward  a  hopeful 
majority,"  I  replied. 

He  shot  a  keen  glance  at  me.  "Dan,  sometimes  you 
are  inspired  with  a  scythe-like  wisdom." 

"My  association  with  you,  Mars.  Bob — " 

"That  will  do.  You  still  have  the  negro's  flattery. 
But  it  is  an  infamous  shame  that  you  are  not  white." 

"I  am,  nearly." 

He  stamped  his  foot  hard  upon  the  floor.  "Fool, 
there  is  no  such  thing  under  social  law  as  nearly  white. 

x 

One  drop  of  negro  blood  would  Africanize  humanity." 
'Then  one  drop  of  unfortunate  blood  would  make 
the  whole  world  unjust." 


72  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

"That  will  do,"  he  said.  "If  I  let  you  go  on  you  will 
preach  me  an  abolition  sermon." 

I  bowed  and  he  sat  down,  drawing  his  chair  near  to 
the  dying  fire  and  placing  his  slippered  feet  against 
the  chimney.  He  mused  for  a  long  time,  and  then  he 
said,  without  looking  at  me.  "I  have  been  reading  an 
old  man's  book,  and  it  impresses  upon  me  the  glorious 
appreciation  of  youth.  To  be  young  and  to  place  the 
proper  estimate  upon  it — how  magnificent!" 

"But  isn't  there  a  danger  in  such  early  ripeness?"  I 
asked. 

"Sir  Sage,"  he  said,  shifting  his  feet  and  crossing 
them.  "Yes,  there  may  be,  and  you  give  evidences 
ef  ft." 

Another  silence  fell,  and  the  candle  as  well  as  the  fire 
was  dying.  "Dan,"  he  said,  "I  have  done  enough 
scanning  and  soon  now  I  am  going  to  take  up  the 
study  of  the  law.  You  know  that  it  is  my  ambition  to 
be  a  great  orator,  and  something  within  me  says  that 
I  shall  be.  I  talk  to  you  as  I  could  talk  to  no  one  else; 
with  some  degree  of  literal  truth,  you  are  a  part  of 
myself— -I  own  you."  A  shadow  fell  black  upon  the 
wall  and  he  looked  round  at  the  struggling  candle. 
For  a  moment  the  light  revived,  and  he  continued: 
"I  believe  that  one  day  I  shall  stand  in  the  Senate,  and 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  «yg 

the  storm  that  rages  within  my  breast  will  sweep  over 
the  land." 

"The  hope  of  every  young  Kentuckian,"  I  ventured 
to  say,  determined  not  always  to  be  a  negro  flatterer. 

The  light  was  nearly  gone,  but  I  saw  his  anxious 
face  turn  toward  me. 

"A  streak  of  lie  and  a  stripe  of  truth,"  he  replied. 
"And  why  do  all  young  Kentuckians  have  that  hope? 
Because  Kentucky  has  produced  so  many  orators? 
Oh,  I  know  that  we  don't  take  account  of  the  failures. 
The  failures  come  largely  from  the  plow,  from  lack  of 
advantages,  but  I  have  advantages,  and  I  have  fire  and 
ability.  Do  you  believe  that?" 

"Mars.  Bob,'  I  know  if." 

I  wondered  what  there  was  in  the  tone  of  my  voice 
to  impress  him'  so,  whether  it  was  a  sadness  on  my  part 
or  a  sudden  and  moving  conviction  striking  deep  into 
his  own  mind,  but  I  saw  his  feet  fall  from  the  chimney, 
saw  him  cover  his  face  with  his  hands — and  then  the 
light  was  gone  save  a  dim  glow  in  the  gray  fire;  no 
sound  in  the  house  nor  from  the  cabins — the  bound 
less  night  was  dead. 


CHAPTER   X. 

It  must  have  been  nearly  a  week  later,  for  I  know 
that  the  holidays  were  drawing  to  a  close,  when  my 
young  master  said  to  me:  "Dan,  I  must  ask  you  to 
do  something  which  may  not  seem  to  be  very  honor 
able,  but  which  must  be  done.  I  have  told  you  that  if 
Bates  wins  my  sister  I  will  cut  his  throat;  I  have  recon 
sidered  that  threat — I  will  not  cut  his  throat,  but  I  will 
give  him  a  chance  to  shoot  me,  and  if  he  avails  himself 
of  it  like  a  man,  all  shall  be  fair,  but  if  he  does  not,  I 
will  shoot  him.  Do  you  understand?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but  what  is  it  you  want  me  to  do?" 

We  were  in  the  stable  at  the  time  this  conversation 
took  place.  He  peered  about  cautiously  to  see  if  any 
one  were  within  hearing, and  then  he  said:  "As  I  said, 
it  is  not  very  honorable,  but  it  must  be  done.  I  want 
you  to  sneak — I  don't  know  of  a  softer  word,  Dan — I 
want  you  to  sneak  about  and — and  as  best  you  can 
listen  to  what  he  says  to  her." 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  make  an  objection  by  asking 
(74) 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  75 

such  a  question,  Mars.  Bob ;  but  do  you  think  it  is  an 
honorable  thing  to  do?" 

He  was  looking  at  me  over  the  partition  of  a  stall, 
and  his  eyes  snapped.  "Di$  you  say  something  to  me 
about  !:3SCr'{;;  he  asked  quietly,  but  to  me  his  soft 
tcnes  were  louder  than  a  shout. 

"Not  of  honor  on  your  part,  but  on  mine,  Mars. 
Bob." 

"A  fine  shift.  Well,  I'll  attend  to  your  honor  and 
mine,  too.  I  am  doing  this  to  save  my  sister  and  the 
honor  will  come  in  my  giving  him  an  opportunity  to 
defend  himself." 

"Don't  you  think  you'd  better  speak  to  Old  Mas 
ter?" 

"No,"  he  snapped.  And  then  he  added :  "Will  you 
do  as  I  bid  you?" 

"I  am  your  property,  Mars.  Bob?" 

"Rascal,  you  disarm  me.  Listen  to  me  a  moment. 
Has  a  father  ever  taken  more  care  of  a  son's  education 
than  I  have  of  yours?  Compare  your  condition  with 
that  of  every  other  slave  in  Kentucky,  and  then  form 
an  estimate  of  my  treatment  of  you." 

"Mars.  Bob,  I  don't  have  to  compare;  I  already 
know,  and  I  appreciate.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I 
don't  care — I  would  crawl  after  the  doctor  and  listen 


76  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

to  all  he  says,  but  I  am  afraid  that  after  a  while  yon 
may  think  less  of  yourself  for  sending  me." 

"Very  thoughtful,  I'm  sure;  but  you  need  have  no 
such  fear.  I  am  making  a  bright  justice  of  a  black 
necessity,  and  if  there  should  be  any  repentance,  I 
shall  be  the  one  to  repent.  Will  you  do  as  I  tell  you?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

He  took  my  hand,  something  he  rarely  did,  for 
although  sociable,  familiarity  was  by  him  held  in  quiet 
abhorrence.  I  went  straightway  to  the  house,  leaving 
him  in  the  stable,  and  as  best  I  could,  entered  upon 
the  discharge  of  my  distasteful  duty.  I  heard  the  doc 
tor's  voice  in  the  library,  and  I  was  hanging  about  the 
door  opening  out  into  the  large  hall,  when  Old  Miss 
spied  me. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  she  asked,  coming  for 
ward  with  one  hand  resting  upon  her  great  bunch  of 
keys. 

"I  am  waiting  for  my  Young  Master,"  I  replied. 
"He  said  that  he  would  meet  me  here." 

"But  you  can  be  better  employed  than  by  standing 
round  here.  Take  out  that  library  rug  and  beat  it." 

I  ventured  to  remind  her  that  the  Christmas  was  not 
quite  over  and  that  all  work  was  by  custom  supposed 
to  be  suspended.  At  this  -  impudence,  she  lifted  her 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  |7 

keys  and  I  know  that  she  would  have  struck  me  had  I 
not  hastened  to  obey  her  order.  While  I  was  folding 
the  rug,  making  more  than  necessary  work  of  it  that  I 
might  listen  to  the  Doctor  and  Miss  May,  I  saw  him 
step  back  from  a  window,  where  the  two  had  been 
standing,  and  then  I  heard  *him  say  to  her:  "I  am 
going  to  town,  but  will  be  back  this  evening,"  and 
then  in  a  still  lower  tone,  he  added :  "And  may  I  have 
the  promise  of  a  talk  in  the  parlor  with  you  to-night? 
I  have  something  that  I  wish  to  tell  you." 

"With  pleasure,"  I  heard  her  say  as  I  went  out  with 
the  rug.  And  long  before  the  coming  of  night  my 
dangerous  plan  was  formed.  In  the  parlor,  usually 
some  distance  from  the  wall,  was  a  large,  old-fashioned 
horse -hair  sofa.  I  decided  to  get  behind  this 
piece  of  furniture  and  lie  flat  upon  the  floor.  There 
was  a  strong  chance  of  discovery  and  a  certainty  of 
punishment  should  I  be  discovered,  but  to  my  young 
master  I  had  given  my  word  and  I  was  determined  to 
take  the  risk.  Just  before  supper  I  laid  out  my  plan  to 
him  and  after  a  thoughtful  moment,  he  said:  "It's  as 
dangerous  as  the  deuce,  but  it  is  the  best  thing  you  can 
do.  Wait  a  moment.  I  will  do  it  myself." 

"You  shall  not,  sir,"  I  was  bold  enough  to  declare, 
sand  he  looked  at  me  admiringly.  "All  right,  Dan, 


TO  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

but  be  careful.  Just  before  supper  is  over,  slip  out, 
and  if  anyone  should  ask  for  you,  I  will  say  that  I  have 
sent  you  off." 

Old  Master  had  passed  through  a  moody  spell  since, 
with  so  free  a  hand,  he  had  dipped  into  the  egg-nog, 
and  just  now  his  rusted  spirits  were  brightening. 
"What,  wine  at  supper,  George?"  he  said,  looking  at 
the  doctor. 

"Our  gracious  lady's  blackberry  cordial,"  the  doctor 
replied,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  toward  Old  Miss. 
"Won't  you  have  a  glass?" 

"Not  unless  I  have  lost  my  senses,  and  I  don't  think 
I  have,"  Old  Master  rejoined,  shrugging  his  thin 
shoulders.  "When  you  want  to  drink,  take  whisky, 
for  all  those  side  drams  are  vicious  pretenses." 

"The  percentage  of  alcohol — "  began  the  doctor, 
but  Old  Master  shut  him  up  with  a  loud  "Tut,  tut.  I 
don't  give  a  snap  for  the  percentage  of  alcohol,"  said 
he.  "Take  the  lowest  percentage,  drink  a  little  too 
much,  and  then  see  where  you  are.  So  I  say  that  if  a 
man  wants  to  drink,  it  is  better  to  take  the  shortest 
route." 

"That  is,  if  he  wants  to  gtf  drunk,"  said  the  doctor, 
"but  I  don't  see  why  any  man  wants  to  do  that.  I 
don't,  I'm  sure;  I  never  was  drunk  in  my  life." 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  79 

"There  are  better  men,  sir,  who  cannot  say  as 
much,"  was  Old  Master's  reply,  and  the  doctor  pre 
tended  to  laugh,  but  I  could  see  that  the  remark  so 
truthfully  delivered  by  Old  Master  cut  him  deeply.  I 
was  waiting  for  the  conversation  to  become  earnest, 
fo  that  I  could  slip  away  unobserved,  but  the  talk 
5>egan  to  lag,  and  Mars.  Bob  must  have  divined  my 
thoughts  for  he  strove  to  enliven  it. 

"Father,"  said  he,  "I  am  ready  now  to  take  up  law 
at  any  time  you  may  suggest.  I  think  that  I  have  had 
enough  of  miscellaneous  training — I  have  read  nearly 
every  book  in  your  library." 

"Take  your  degree,  sir;  take  your  degree,"  Old 
Master  replied. 

"That,  sir,  is  a  mere  matter  of  form." 

"And  a  form  to  be  observed,  sir — to  be  observed/* 

"Yes,"  said  Mars.  Bob,  "but  my  reading  teaches  me 

drat  an  orator  can  be  trained  down  to  a  point  too  fine 

— it  may  weaken  his  passion,  dim  his  fire  with  too 

much  judgment,  hem  him  in  with  too  much  criticism 

and  compel  him  to  dodge.    I  think  that  it  was  Greek 

art,  sir,  that  kept  Ben  Johnson  from  creating  great 

.  characters.    The  perfection  of  Greek  form  rendered  it 

impossible  for  him  to  give  us  anything  save  talking 

moralities." 


90  MY  YOUNG  MASTBtt 

"Sophistry!"  Old  Master  shouted,  and  upon  the 
young  man  he  turned  with  such  a  storm  that  I  found 
my  opportunity  to  escape. 

In  the  parlor  the  light  was  dim,  the  flame  in  the  fire 
place  not  yet  having  enveloped  logs  recently  put  on, 
and  in  my  eagerness  to  get  into  my  hiding-place,  I 
overturned  a  chair.  It  struck  the  floor  with  a  deafen 
ing  noise,  I  thought,  and  as  I  put  it  back  into  place 
I  listened  for  approaching  footsteps,  but  heard  nothing 
save  Old  Master's  loud-toned  talk  upon  the  necessity 
of  observing  all  beneficial  forms.  I  could  not  under 
stand  what  he  said,  nor  did  I  halt  long  enough  to  try, 
but  leaping  behind  the  old  sofa,  stretched  myself  out 
upon  the  floor.  Of  course  every  sound  about  the 
house  was  now  increased  to  new  volume,  and  of  course 
my  heart  beat  so  hard  upon  the  floor  that  I  was  afraid 
that  someone  might  hear  it.  A  cat  came  in  and  purred 
against  the  legs  of  the  sofa,  a  yellow,  hateful  creature 
that  all  previous  coaxing  had  failed  to  induce  to  come 
near  me;  and  I  scolded  at  her  under  my  breath,  but 
she  rubbed  against  me,  and  mewed  as  if  to  invite  dis 
covery  of  my  shame.  I  knew  that  I  must  get  rid  of 
her,  and  I  think  that  once  I  felt  in  my  pocket  to  find 
my  knife  to  cut  her  throat,  but  by  a  slight  noise  was 
frightened  out  of  this  cruel  intention.  I  did  not  parley 


YOUNG   MASTER  81 

with  her,  though  I  picked  her  up,  clambered  over  the 
sofa,  raised  the  window  and  as  she  clawed  at  me,  threw 
her  out.  And  I  had  just  time  enough  to  hasten  back 
to  my  hiding-place  when  I  heard  foot-steps  in  the  hall. 
There  was  no  opening  through  which  I  could  see  what 
was  passing,  for  my  peeping-place  commanded  but  a 
view  of  the  hearth  and  the  rug  spread  in  front  of  it. 
Presently  upon  the  parlor  carpet  came  the  doctor's 
footsteps — I  knew  them  well — and  the  soft  rustle  of 
skirts.  For  a  few  moments  the  doctor  stood  on  the 
rug,  and  the  skirts,  which  I  could  just  see,  showed  me 
that  Miss  May  had  sat  down  in  a  rocking  chair.  I 
fancied  that  the  doctor  was  lighting  a  cigar,  and  about 
the  time  I  thought  he  must  have  it  going,  he  sat  down 
not  far  from  Miss  May.  For  a  long  time  they  talked 
of  neighborhood  happenings,  parties,  marriages, 
deaths — she  as  artless  as  a  child,  frank  and  cheerful; 
but  he,  sly  and  insinuating.  He  told  her  of  his  adven 
tures,  with  race  horses  in  the  East  and  with  gamblers 
on  the  Mississippi  River,  and  her  exclamations  from 
time  to  time  told  me  of  the  effect  the  recital  had  upon 
her;  and  I  could  well  understand  it,  for  indeed  the 
rascal  interested  me.  Sometimes  I  thought  that  he 
had  wandered  so  far  from  the  subject  which  had  on  his 
part  induced  this  communion  that  I  did  not  see  how  he 


82  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

was  to  approach  it,  but  somehow  he  found  his  way 
back,  though  not  with  perfect  ease,  for  I  saw  my  young 
mistress  move  her  chair  in  her  embarrassment.  "And 
May,"  he  said,  "during  all  these  years,  while  you  were 
growing  and  blooming,  my  mind  dwelt  upon  you — 
and  but  for  you,  I  don't  think  that  I  should  have  cared 
to  live—" 

"Why,  Brother  George/'  she  broke  in,  "what  are 
you  saying?" 

"May,  listen  to  me  a  moment.  Don't  call  me 
brother — call  me  George.  Wait  a  moment,  please." 
There  was  a  flouncing  of  her  skirts  and  I  thought  that 
she  must  have  been  getting  out  of  the  rocking  chair. 
"You  look  frightened  when,  indeed,  this  should  be  as 
quiet  as  the  time  when  you  say  your  prayers.  May,  I 
am  no  longer  as  poor  a  man  as  I  was — " 

"But,  brother,  has  anyone  reproached  you  with  your 
poverty?"  she  asked. 

"There  you  go,  calling  me  brother  again.  Not 
lately,  but  in  the  past,  yes.  I  have  eaten  the  bitter 
bread  of  the  dependent — 

"Don't  say  that,"  she  protested.  "Did  you  invite  me 
here  to  tell  me  this?  Tell  me  more  of  your  adven 
tures?" 

"May,  you  are  not  a  child." 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  88 

"Well,  no,"  she  laughed.  "I  am  really  getting  along 
in  years.  I  am  much  older  than  Bob,  and  you  know 
he  is  nearly  a  man  now." 

"We  are  all  getting  along  in  years,"  he  replied. 
"Time  is  cutting  the  pigeon  wing.  But  now  let  me 
talk  seriously  to  you.  Your  memory  of  my  devotion 
to  your  sister  Lou  must  still  be  fresh,  and  God  knows 
I  loved  her,  but  May,  my  love  for  you  is  greater, 
passes  all  understanding,  and  I  ask  you  to  be  my 
wife." 

He  was  leaning  toward  her,  for  his  hands  came 
down  within  the  sweep  of  my  vision.  It  was  some 
time  before  she  replied,  and  I  lay  there  waiting,  my 
heart  beating  loud.  He  had  so  impressed  her  that  she 
Was  seeking  to  frame  a  graceful  answer.  Could  it  be 
that  she  was  thinking  of  accepting  him?  She  got  out 
of  the  chair  and  her  skirts  whisked  about  as  if  she  had 
turned  toward  the  door. 

I  lost  sight  of  the  doctor's  hand  and  I  saw  his  feet 
move.  "May,  please  don't  go!"  he  pleaded. 

"Doctor  Bates,"  she  said,  "you  insult  me  and  the 
memory  of  my  sister.  I  am  going  to  marry  a  man  that 
I  love  and  that  you  hate,  although  you  have  seen  him 
but  o«ce." 


84  MY   YOUNG   MASTER 

"You  don't  mean  John  Marston,  of  New  Orleans?'' 
he  almost  cried. 

"Yes,  I  do.    I  am  going-  to  marry  him." 

"May,  if  you  do  I  will  shoot  him." 

She  laughed.  "Oh,  you  might  kill  him  if  called  to 
attend  him,  doctor,  but  you  will  not  shoot  him." 

"I  will  pass  your  insults,  Miss.  One  more  moment, 
please?  Does  your  mother  know  about  it?" 

"I  have  honored  you  first,  Doctor.  See  what  confi 
dence  I  have  in  you?  I  have  made  my  own  choice 
and  have  consulted  no  one.  Perhaps  it  might  have 
been  better  if  my  poor  sister  had  done  the  same." 

"You  shall  not  insult  me  this  way.  I'll  call  your 
father." 

"Do,  puppy." 

She  whisked  out  of  the  room,  and  I  felt  myself  rising 
from  the  floor,  so  strong  was  my  impulse  to  spring 
upon  the  scoundrel  and  choke  him,  but  when  I 
straightened  up,  he  was  no  longer  in  the  room.  I 
hastened  to  my  young  master,  whom  I  knew  was  wait 
ing  for  me  up  stairs,  and  I  almost  flung  myself  into  the 
room.  There  he  sat  near  a  table  with  two  pistols  lying 
upon  it.  He  strove  to  control  himself,  but  he  was  bit 
ing  fcis  lip  as  he  looked  up  at  me. 

"WW1,"  he  said. 


MY  ¥OT>XG   MASTER  gft 

"It  is  well,"  I  replied. 
"Out  with  it— tell  me.    What  did  she  do?" 
"She  called  him  a  puppy,"  I  replied.    And  then  IP 
told  him  all  that  had  passed,  and  he  listened,  motion 
less,  wtih  his  hand  lying  across  the  two  pistols. 


CHAPTER   Xf. 

Early  in  the  morning  I  arose  and  kindled  a  fire  and 
sat  beside  it,  waiting  for  my  master  to  awake.  The 
day  was  still  and  cold,  and  what  was  unusual  with  us,  a 
dark  fog  lay  low  on  the  land,  like  the  skeleton  of  night 
left  hanging  in  the  air  of  dawn.  Master  turnedoverand 
I  looked  round  at  him.  He  did  not  notice  me ;  he  lay 
upon  his  back  with  one  arm  under  his  head,  his  great 
brown  eyes  wide  open,  a  graceful  curl  of  hair  upon  his 
classic  brow.  A  piece  of  poplar  kindling  snapped — 
and  he  looked  at  me. 

"Dan,"  he  said,  rising  up,  and  propping  his 
shoulders  against  the  head-board,  "what  was  it  you 
said  last  night  about  John  Marston?" 

"I  repeated  what  Miss  May  said;  that  she  was  going 
to  marry  him." 

"Why,  he  hasn't  been  here  very  often." 

"But  that  doesn't  seem  to  have  made  much  differ 
ence,"  I  replied. 

He  smiled  at  me.  "Love  comes  once  and  is  ever 
present  afterward,"  he  said,  half  musingly.  And  then 

(86) 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  87 

rousing  himself  he  added :  "I  am  so  much  pleased  to 
know  that  she  is  beyond  the  artifices  of  that  nimble 
wolf  that  the  prospect  of  her  marriage  with  anyone 
else  seems  almost  a  blessing.  But  I  wonder  what 
father  will  say.  I  don't  know  but  that  he  may  look  at 
it  very  much  as  I  do,  though  I  don't  suppose  he  had 
an  inkling  that  Bates  was  striving  to  win  her." 

"And  how  about  your  mother?"  I  asked. 

I  was  looking  straight  at  him,  and  I  thought  that  his 
face  darkened.  "I  could  never  understand  her  liking 
for  him,"  he  said. 

"Neither  can  we  understand  a  woman's  liking  for 
any  man/'  I  ventured  to  suggest,  and  he  laughed  as 
he  got  out  of  bed.  He  pulled  off  the  snow-white  coun 
terpane  and  wrapped  it  about  his  shoulders,  and  stood 
before  me  a  Greek  poet,  ennobled  with  the  pride  of  a 
conquered  prize. 

When  we  went  down  to  the  breakfast  table,  Dr. 
Bates  was  not  in  his  accustomed  place,  but  Miss  May 
was  there  and  her  face  was  as  bright  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  "I  wonder  why  the  doctor  doesn't  come 
on?"  said  Old  Miss,  And  then  she  turned  to  me: 
"Dan,  step  up  to  his  room  and  tell  him  that  breakfast 
«s  ready." 

"I  object,"  Young  Master  cried,  setting  himself  back 


gg  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

from  the  table,  and  Old  Master  gave  him  a  sharp  look. 
"Robert,  what  do  you  mean,  sir?  Object  to  what?" 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  Young  Master,  bowing.  "I 
was  thinking  of  something  else  and  didn't  really  know 
what  I  was  saying.  Yes,  Dan,  go  tell  the  doctor  to 
come  to  breakfast.  But  here  he  comes  now." 

The  doctor  came  in  smiling.  "Glad  to  see  everyone 
looking  so  well,"  he  said,  sitting  down  opposite  Miss 
May  and  beside  Young  Master.  "General,  you  appear 
to  have  enjoyed  a  good  night's  rest,  and  madam, 
(speaking  to  Old  Miss)  to  look  at  you  always  takes  me 
back  ten  years.  I  met  old  Tom  Marshal  not  long  ago, 
and  he  told  me  that  at  one  time  you  were  the  most 
bewitching  woman  in  Kentucky ;  and  with  captivating 
graciousness  he  added  that  in  one  hand  you  might 
carry  the  cares  of  the  present,  but  that  with  the  other 
you  held  up  the  glowing  lamp  of  the  romantic  past. 
And  I  must  be  permitted  to  fancy  that  Miss  May 
stands  as  a  reproduction  of  your  earlier  days.  Bob, 
how  are  you  this  morning?" 

"A  great  man  has  said  that  one  can  be  below  as  well 
as  above  flattery,  and  I  am  one  or  the  other;  I  shall  not 
say  which,"  Young  Master  answered.  Miss  May 
smiled,  Old  Master  pretended  not  to  hear,  but  Old 
Miss  heard,  and  I  thought  that  the  wrinkles  on  her 
brow  grew  deeper. 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  89 

The  doctor  laughed.    "Let  us  say  above,  Bob." 

"All  right,  sir;  if  you  desire  to  be  very  near  the 
truth." 

"But,"  the  doctor  added,  "let  us  not  agree  that  you 
are  above  truth  itself.  General,  don't  you  think  that 
his  shrewd  sophistry  more  than  ever  fits  him  for  the 
law?"  And  before  Old  Master  could  reply,  Young 
Master  spoke  up.  "The  law  has  kept  abreast  with  all 
human  advancement,  but  I  know  of  a  profession  that 
lags  in  disputatious  ignorance,  wagging  its  head  at  a 
Harvey  and  denouncing  a  Jenner — bleeding  the 
already  bloodless  patient — " 

"Robert!"  Old  Master  cried,  dropping  his  fork  with 
a  clang  upon  his  plate,  "if  you  find  it  impossible  to  be 
agreeable,  leave  the  table,  sir." 

But  Young  Master  was  not  to  be  thus  driven  away. 
"If  I  arn  disagreeable  I  beg  your  pardon." 

The  doctor  was  laughing.  "His  words  may  be  dis 
agreeable  to  some  ears,  but  not  to  mine,"  he  said, 
"There  is  truth  in  what  he  says,  and  that  is  one  of  the 
reasons  why  I  have  practically  abandoned  my.  pro 
fession." 

And  then  Old  Mistress  spoke.  "And  I  am  vary 
sorry  you  have,"  she  said.  "To  heal  the  sick  is  the 


30  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

most  noble  of  all  arts — one  that  our  Saviour  prac 
ticed." 

"Greatly  to  the.  insult  of  the  recognized  medicine  of 
His  time,"  Young  Master  declared. 

Old  Miss  cleared  her  throat  and  was  going  to  s'ay 
something  but  the  doctor  cut  in  ahead  of  her.  "Yes," 
said  he,  "but  it  was  the  lawyers  who  condemned  Him 
to  death." 

I  stepped  back,  expecting  to  see  Young  Master 
spring  up  in  wrath,  but  he  didn't;  and  he  was  quiet  in 
his  answer :  "And  it  was  oratory  that  spread  the  great 
news  of  redemption — the  native  force  of  Peter  and  the 
cultivated  grace  of  Paul.  Yes,  the  men  of  the  text 
book  condemned  Him  to  death,  but  borne  upon  the 
eloquence  that  flew  from  the  heart  of  impulsive  man, 
His  name  was  carried  to  the  ends  of  the  earth." 

I  thought  that  the  doctor  gave  him  a  look  of  admira 
tion,  but  it  might  have  been  a  trick  of  his  hypocritical 
nature.  But  Old  Miss  looked  at  him  proudly,  and  I 
saw  a  warm  light  glow  in  Old  Master's  eye ;  and  this 
show  of  respect  for  the  young  man  influenced  the 
doctor  to  change  the  subject.  "I  am  going  to  town 
this  morning,"  said  he.  "Has  anyone  a  commission 
to  give  me?  Miss  May,  can  I  bring  you  anything?" 

"No,  I  thank  you.    I  am  going  myself  after  a  while." 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  91 

"When  did  you  stop  calling  her  May?"  Old  Mistress 
inquired. 

"I  don't  know  when  and  I  don't  know  why,"  the 
doctor  made  answer,  looking  at  the  young  woman.  "I 
suppose  it  was  when  I  discovered  that  she  had  lost  her 
sisterly  regard  for  me,  though  I  don't  know  exactly 
when  that  was." 

"Wasn't  it  last  night?"  Miss  May  asked,  giving  him 
a  straight  look.  But  not  in  the  least  was  he  daunted 
by  it.  "Last  night?  Let  me  see,"  he  went  on,  pre 
tending  to  muse.  "Oh,  I  don't  know  but  it  was.  We 
had  a  little  dispute  then,"  he  added,  turning  to  Old 
Miss.  "But  it  was  not  serious." 

"What  is  it?" Old  Miss  asked,looking  up  at  a  house 
maid  who  had  just  entered. 

"Mr.  Marston  is  in  the  parlor,"  the  maid  answered. 
Miss  May  jumped  up  and  ran  to. her  room  to  adorn 
herself  for  his  reception,  and  the  doctor,  following  her 
with  his  eyes  as  she  ran  up  the  stairway  in  the  hall, 
could  not  conceal  the  dark  bitterness  in  his  heart.  Old 
Master  looked  on  and  was  silent  until  Miss  May  had 
quite  disappeared  upon  the  upper  landing  and  then 
coming  out  of  his  muse  with  a  sudden  jerking  of  his 
hand  which  lay  upon  the  table,  he  said:  "It  appears 
to  me  that  his  visits  are  becoming  frequent,  Madam." 


92  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

Old  Miss  smiled,  as  I  had  seen  her  smile  some  time 
before  when  it  was  incidentally  mentioned  by  someone 
that  the  man  Marston  owned  a  large  sugar  plantation 
in  Louisiana.  "Yes,"  she  replied,  "and  for  one,  I  must 
say  that  I  am  pleased."  And  thereupon  the  doctor 
turned  his  head  slowly  and  gave  her  a  searching  look. 
"I  mean  it,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him.  But  he  did  not 
smile  in  return ;  he  rattled  his  fork  upon  his  plate  and 
sat  in  silence.  My  young  master  was  turned  about  so 
that  I  could  see  his  face.  The  sullen  discomfiture  of 
the  doctor  was  pleasing  to  him,  and  with  a  sudden 
motion  of  his  hand,  a  forensic  gesture  which  was  now 
unconscious  with  him  (so  surely  was  oratory  taking 
possession  of  him)  said  straight  at  Old  Master: 

"I  don't  see  why  so  much  import  should  attach  to  a 
few  visits.  One  might  suppose  that  my  sister  had  been 
living  apart  from  social  influences  when  the  fact  is 
that  young  men  have  for  years  ridden  from  the  valleys 
and  the  knobs  to  call  upon  her.  I  hope  you  do  not 
wish  to  get  her  off  your  hands?" 

Old  Master  was  rolling  a  bit  of  bread  between  his 
thumb  and  finger,  a  habit  with  him.  And  he  looked 
up,  still  rolling  it,  and  with  a  mischievous  light  in  his 
eye,  asked  if  anyone  had  seen  his  daughter  posted  for 
sale. 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  98 

"I  won't  put  up  with  such  talk  as  this,.'*  Old  Miss 
declared.  "Robert,  you  and  your  father  would  make 
me  out  a  heathen.  Offered  for  sale,  indeed.  General, 
I  am  ashamed  of  you." 

The  old  man  rolled  his  bolus  of  bread  and  chuckled 
softly.  "I  don't  know,"  he  saidk  his  eyes  blinking, 
"that  anyone  has  tried  to  make  you  out  a  heathen.  In 
fact,  I  think  you  give  strong  evidences  of  an  advanced 
state  of  civilization.  The  heathen  mother  would  be 
caught  by  feathers  and  paint  but  it  takes  a  sugar  plan 
tation  to  sweeten  your  smile,*' 

Young  master  roared  and  was  still  laughing  when 
Miss  May  passed  the  door  on  her  way  to  the  parlor. 
Old  Miss  was  so  furious  that  she  would  not  trust  her 
self  to  say  anything ;  her  face  changed  from  one  hue  to 
another,  and  her  eyes  looked  young  with  fire,  but  she 
held  her  peace,  with  her  teeth  set  upon  her  thin  lip. 
It  was  now  time  for  the  doctor  to  say  something, 
and  with  the  sympathetic  smile  of  the  scoundrel  he 
turned  to  her.  "Nothing  is  too  sacred  to  escape  a 
man's  joke,"  said  he.  "Of  course,  the  General  meant 
nothing,  but  it  gives  me  the  opportunity  to  say  that  of 
all  mothers  I  have  known,  I  think  you  are  the 
noblest.4' 

Young  Master  looked  at  him.    "My  mother  needs 


94  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

no  one  to  defend  her  against  a  pleasantry  uttered  at 
her  own  board,"  said  he. 

"Tut,  tut,"  Old  Master  cried,  slapping-  his  hand  upon 
the  table.  "It  was  all  nonsense  and  should  have  been 
taken  as  such.  Dan,  tell  Sam  to  get  my  leggings  and 
bring  my  horse  round.  I'm  going  to  ride." 

During  the  forenoon,  though  the  air  was  sharp,  I 
saw  Mr.  Marston  and  Miss  May  walking  about  the 
place,  along  the  banks  of  the  smoking  creek,  in  the 
woods,  where  the  cold  birds  fluttered;  I  heard  them 
laugh,  and  I  saw  him  leading  her  by  the  hand  as  they 
strolled  down  the  lane.  Only  twice  during  the  day 
did  I  catch  sight  of  the  doctor,  once  as  he  stood  lean 
ing  moodily  against  a  tree  in  the  yard,  and  later  as  he 
walked  to  and  fro  near  the  stable,  lashing  his  leg  with 
a  riding  whip.  Old  Master  rode  abroad  and  remained 
long  away,  and  when  he  returned  just  before  the  din 
ner  hour,  I  heard  negro  Sam  tell  him  that  the  doctor 
wished  to  speak  to  him  in  the  library.  I  know  not 
what  passed  at  the  interview,  but  I  remember  that  as 
I  went  through  the  hall  I  heard  Old  Master  say,  "It 
is  a  matter,  sir,  that  should  concern  you  very  little. 
You  may  regard  yourself  as  a  member  of  the  family, 
but  I  am  at  the  head  of  the  household,  sir."  I  imag 
ined  that  the  doctor  was  advising  against  Marston 
and  that  Old  Master  had  tln^s  shut  him  up. 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  95 

That  night  Bob  and  I  were  in  our  room,  studying  an 
immortal  oration,  when  there  came  a  tap  at  the  door. 
The  young  man  frowned  at  the  interruption  and  put 
ting  aside  his  book,  went  himself  to  the  door.  "Come 
in,"  he  said,  stepping  back  stiffly.  And  the  doctor 
entered.  It  was  the  first  time  for  years  that  I  had 
seen  him  in  that  room  and  all  three  of  us  felt  the 
embarrassment  of  the  visit.  "Sit  down,"  my  master 
invited,  placing  a  chair  for  him.  He  took  the  seat,  leaned 
for  a  moment  toward  the  cheerful  blaze,  then  straight 
ening  up,  remarked  upon  the  coldness  of  the  night. 
Master  said  something  in  reply  and  I  knew  that  they 
were  skirmishing;  that  something  must  soon  follow — 
through  their  politeness  I  saw  a  deadly  hatred. 

"How  long  does  that  man  expect  to  stay?"  the  doc 
tor  asked. 

"What  man?"  master  spoke  up,  with  an  air  of  sur 
prise. 

"Marston,  of  course." 

"Why  of  course?" 

The  doctor  turned  nervously,  looked  at  me  and  said: 
"Will  you  please  move  a  little?"  motioning  with  his 
hand,  "You  are  too  close  to  me." 

"Dan,"  said  master,  "sit  over  there." 

I  went  over  to  the  window,  the  place  where  I  had 


Q3  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

stood  one  night  and  looked  down  upon  a  quarrel 
between  Old  Master  and  the  doctor. 

"Why  of  course?"  master  repeated. 

"Thought  you  knew  the  man  I  meant." 

"He  and  almost  all  other  men  had  passed  out  of  my 
mind,  sir,"  said  the  young  man,  leaning  with  his  elbow 
upon  the  table.  "There  are  times  when  I  don't  think 
of  man,  but  of  what  man  has  said." 

The  doctor  coughed.  "Don't  you  thing  there's  just 
a  little  pretense  in  all  that — this  learned  abstraction?" 

"If  there's  any  pretense  at  all  it  is  just  a  little.  I 
know  men  who  have  more  than  a  little  pretense." 

For  a  time  they  were  silent,  listening  to  the  crackling 
of  the  fire.  "But  I  didn't  come  to  bicker,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"Didn't  you?  Have  the  revivalists  brought  about  a 
change  of  heart?" 

"I  have  come  to  tell  you  good-bye,"  said  the  doc 
tor,  graciously  overlooking  my  master's  remark. 

"Oh,  to  tell  me  good-bye?  When  do  you  expect 
to  go?" 

"Possibly  to-night — surely  in  the  morning.** 

"Expect  to  be  gone  long?" 

"I  may  never  return." 

"You  expect  to  be  gone  then  some  time?" 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  97 

They  looked  at  each  other.  "It  would  seem  so," 
said  the  doctor.  And  then  he  added:  "I  am  going 
South." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  master.  "It  really  makes  no 
difference  which  way  you  go." 

"You  are  getting  old  enough  to  pass  from  annoy 
ance  to  insult,"  the  doctor  replied. 

"Yes,"  said  master,  "one  is  supposed  to  progress." 

"True,"  replied  the  doctor,  "but  premature  progress 
argues  premature  decay.  Kentucky  is  full  of  the  dusty 
shells  of  young  hopefuls.  Sometimes  at  nineteen  a 
bov  gives  promise  of  becoming  a  great  orator;  at 
twenty-five  he  is  a  haggler — at  forty,  forgotten.  I 
have  known  it  to  be  the  case." 

"Yes,"  said  master,  leaning  heavier  upon  the  table, 
"some  men  change  while  others  are  always  the  same— 
with  low  instincts  and  only  the  sharpness  that  appear? 
to  be  the  inheritance  of  the  scoundrel." 

I  stepped  forward.  Master  noticed  me  and  motioned 
me  back  to  my  place:  The  doctor  did  not  even  wince. 
He  sat  gazing  into  the  fire.  "I  came  to  make  you  » 
proposition,"  said  he. 

"All  right.     Let  it  be  a  short  one." 

"It  will  not  take  long  to  state  it." 

"Longer  to  get  to  it,  I  presume?" 


98  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"It's  this,"  said  the  doctor.  "You  are  going  into  the 
law  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  will  make  your 
mark.  I  don't  believe  that  you  are  ambitious  to 
acquire  wealth,  but  I  feel  that  you  would  like  to  hold 
intact  your  father's  estate.  A  part  of  the  estate,  you 
must  know,  will  fall  to  me.  I  don't  suppose  there  will 
be  money  enough  to  satisfy  my  claim,  without  a  divi 
sion  of  the  land,  so  to  avoid  this,  I  will  agree  to  take 
a  small  amount  in  ready  money  as  part  payment,  and 
Dan  as  the  remainder." 

A  cold  shiver  ran  over  me,  not  that  I  was  afraid  of 
the  issue,  but  because  that  man's  determination  to 
possess  me  was  freezing  my  blood. 

Master  did  not  change  his  position,  neither  did  he 
look  up.  He  made  this  simple  answer:  "When  the 
time  comes,  you  may  take  what  belongs  to  you,  even 
to  the  estate  itself.  I  will  keep  Dan." 

"But  I  have  consulted  with  your  mother  and  I  act 
upon  her  advice." 

"You  may  take  the  estate  when  the  time  comes,  but 
I  will  keep  Dan." 

The  doctor  got  up.  "Bob  Gradley,"  said  he,  "when 
you  were  a  child,  you  toddled  into  my  way,  and  now 
that  you  are  nearly  a  man,  you  persistently  obstruct 
my  path." 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  99 

Master  sprawled  flat  upon  the  table  and  laughed. 

"Well, if  this  isn't  gall!" he  cried.  "I  was  born  on  my 
father's  plantation  to  stand  in  your  way."  He  got  off 
the  table  and  laughed  as  he  walked  up  and  down  the 
room.  "Toddled  into  your  way?  And  didn't  my 
mother  apologize,  and  didn't  my  father  try  to  make 
excuses  for  me,  doctor?"  he  said,  facing  about. 
"Doctor,  the  first  light  of  reason  that  fell  upon  my 
mind  brought  the  knowledge  that  I  hated  you.  Once 
I  cut  my  finger  and  looking  at  the  blood,  wondered  if 
your  blood  were  not  black  instead  of  red.  And  I'd 
like  to  satisfy  myself  upon  that  point  now.  Here, 
(tossing  a  pen-knife  upon  the  table)  prick  yourself  and 
let  me  see  if  the  ooze  is  not  black.  I'll  bet  it  is,  and 
what  a  proclamation  the  devil  could  write  with  such 
ink,  and  with  a  pen  made  of  a  lizzard's  claw!"  This 
idea  brought  back  his  mirth,  and  laughing  he  walked 
up  and  down  the  room,  the  doctor's  eyes  following  him 
with  a  sullen  gaze.  After  a  time  master  came  back  to 
the  table  and  sat  down.  "I  am  much  obliged  to  you 
for  this  entertainment,"  he  said. 

"Make  the  most  of  it,"  the  doctor  replied. 

"Oh,  I  will ;  I  have  been  known  to  make  much  out 
of  poor  material." 


100  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

"And  you  have  been  known  to  make  too  much  out 
of  a  negro  that  ought  to  be  in  the  corn  field." 

"Yes,  more  out  of  him  than  could  have  been  made 
out  of  some  white  men." 

"Look  here,  sir;  do  you  mean  to  draw  a  comparison 
between  me  and  that  negro?" 

"Oh,  no;  not  at  all,  and  I  big  your  pardon  for  inad 
vertantly  producing  that  impression.  I  wouldn't  go 
so  far  as  that." 

"I  should  hope  not,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Oh,  surely  not,"  master  replied.  "I  am  sometimes 
wild  but  I  am  never  frantic.  I  wouldn't  compare  you 
with  Dan.  I  have  too  high  an  opinion  of  him," 

"I  will  not  stand  this!"  the  doctor  cried  springing  to 
his  feet.  "No  gentleman  in  the  State  of  Kentucky 
would  put  up  with  it  and  you'll  have  to  take  it  back 
or — "  He  took  out  his  watch  a*  d  glanced  at  it.  "That 
was  the  worst  insult  I  have  ever  known,  Bob  Gradley, 
and  I  will  give  you  just  five  minu  les  to  take  it  back." 

"What  time  have  you?"  master  risked,  taking  out  his 
watdi. 

"Fourteen  minutes  of  ten,  sir." 

"You  are  just  a  little  slow.  I'm  fifteen.  Fortunate 
that  my  derringers  are  k>aded — don't  believe  I  could 
load  them  in  five  minutes."  He  pul  >4  open  a  drawer 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  101 

and  took  out  two  pistols.  "And  now/'  said  he,  "in  the 
event  that  I  should  drop  off  to  sleep,  wake  me  up  when 
the  time  is  out." 

"Braggart,"  muttered  the  doctor. 

I  heard  Old  Master  walking  in  the  hall.  Once  he 
halted  at  our  door — I  heard  his  hand  upon  the  knob. 
I  hastened  to  the  door  and  opened  it  and  the  old  man 
stepped  into  the  room.  Young  Master  gathered  up 
the  pistols  and  put  them  into  the  drawer,  and  the  doc 
tor  snapped  his  watch  which  he  had  continued  to  hold 
open  in  his  hand.  The  antipathy  that  lay  between  Bob 
and  the  doctor  was  felt  by  every  member  of  the  family, 
and  I  saw  the  old  General  stiffen  with  surprise  upon 
discovering  the  doctor  in  the  room,  but  he  gave  no 
mouth  to  his  astonishment;  he  sat  down  upon  the 
chair  which  his  son  sprang  up  to  give  him,  looked 
from  one  to  another  of  us,  and  rubbing  his 
thin  hands  said  that  he  had  a  piece  of  news 
for  us.  The  doctor,  as  if  he  already  divined 
the  news  and  did  not  care  to  hear  it  uttered  in  words, 
hastily  quitted  the  room ;  and  then  Old  Master,  paying 
no  attention  to  the  abrupt  departure  of  his  son-in-law, 
told  us  that  he  had  given  his  daughter  to  the  man  from 
Louisiana. 


CHAPTER   Xff. 

I  was  up  and  abroad  upon  the  plantation  early  the 
next  morning,  Old  Master  having  sent  me  to  look  for 
a  colt  that  had  been  missing  for  several  days.  In  a 
wild  bit  of  thicket-land  I  found  the  colt  in  a  sink  hole 
and  was  rejoiced  to  discover  that  it  was  not  hurt.  But 
it  was  weak  and  when  I  had  helped  it  out,  it  trotted  off 
with  its  knees  knocking  together.  I  followed  along  to 
drive  it  to  the  stable  and  was  putting  up  the  bars  after 
seeing  the  hungry  creature  stumble  into  the  lot,  when 
someone  accosted  me.  I  looked  up,  pausing  with  a 
bar  in  my  hand,  and  there  stood  the  doctor  muffled  to 
the  eais.  "I  want  you  to  drive  me  to  town,"  he  said. 

I  finished  my  work  of  putting  up  the  bars  before  I 
answered  him,  and  this  apparent  sullenness  smote 
upon  his  sense  of  resentment,  for  when  I  turned 
toward  him  he  was  gazing  hard  at  me.  "Did  my  Mas 
ter  say  that  I  was  to  drive  you?"  I  asked.  I  was  look 
ing  down  and  I  saw  the  frozen  ground  grinding  under 
his  heel ;  I  glanced  at  his  face  and  his  countenance  was 
aflame  with  wrath.  With  both  hands  he  tore  the  muf- 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

fler  from  about  his  neck;  he  looked  about  and 
appeared  to  stand  harder  on  the  ground — all  this  before 
he  spoke  again,  and  when  he  did  speak  his  voice  had  a 
hissing  sound.  "You  yellow  dog,  I  ought  to  cut  your 
liver  out." 

"But  I  am  sure  that  my  master  did  not  tell  you  to  do 
that,"  I  was  bold  enough  to  reply.  He  leaped  toward 
me.  I  was  strong  enough  and  skillful  enough  to  have 
given  him  an  unmerciful  beating,  and  my  blood  burned 
to  knock  his  teeth  down  his  throat,  but  judgment  had 
not  deserted  me,  and  putting  one  hand  upon  the  top 
bar,  I  leaped  lightly  over,  leaving  him  swearing  on  the 
other  side.  Had  he  made  a  motion  to  pursue  me  I 
would  have  run  away,  but  I  saw  Old  Master  coming, 
so  I  stood  my  ground.  The  doctor  saw  him,  too,  and 
turned  away,  muffling  his  throat  as  he  went.  Break 
fast  was  over  and  I  hastened  straightway  to  my  Mas 
ter's  room.  He  was  writing  as  I  entered,  but  he 
looked  up  pleasantly  and  asked  if  I  had  eaten,  and 
when  I  told  him  no,  bade  me  go  at  once  to  the  ser 
vants'  hall. 

"I  had  better  not  go  now,"  I  replied.  "I  met  the 
doctor  out  in  the  lot  and  he  ordered  me  to  drive  him  to 
town,  and — " 

"That's  enough,"  he  broke  in,  and  putting  down  his 


104  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

pen,  went  to  the  front  window  and  looked  out.  "I 
wonder  if  he  is  gone  yet,"  he  said,  speaking  more  to 
himself  than  to  me.  "I  repented  of  my  action  of  last 
night,  but  now  I  wish  I  had  kicked  him  down  stairs. 
I  wonder  how  long  God  wants  me  to  put  up  with 
that  fellow." 

"If  I  am  allowed  an  opinion,  sir,"  I  replied,  "I  don't 
think  that  God  takes  him  into  account." 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  smile.  "You  are  allowed 
that  opinion  and  I  will  help  you  entertain  it,"  he  said, 
and  a  moment  later  he  added :  "Come  down  with  me 
and  get  something  to  eat." 

The  front  hall  door  stood  open  and  as  we  turned  the 
bend  in  the  stairs  we  saw  the  doctor  driving  off  from 
the  gate.  Old  Master  came  up  the  steps  from  the  hall. 
"I  see  he's  gone,"  said  the  young  man. 

"Yes,  thank  God,"  Old  Master  replied.  "There's 
only  one  way  that  Bates  has  given  me  pleasure  and 
that  is  to  see  him  driving  away.  But  I  don't  think 
he's  as  bad  as  he  used  to  be.  He  used  to  worry  the 
life  out  of  me  with  trying  to  buy  Dan  when  he  might 
have  known  that  it  was  against  my  principles  to  sell  a 
slave." 

"It's  not  against  my  principles  to  sell  anything  that 
annoys  me,"  said  Old  Miss,  coming  out  with  her  keys 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  105 

jangling.  "As  for  you,  General,  you  are  always  willing 
enough  to  get  rid  of  white  men  but  you  stick  close 
enough  to  your  negroes.  Dan,"  she  added,  "I  want 
you  to  take  up  the  sitting-room  carpet  and  beat  it." 

"Mother,"  Young  Master  interposed,  "he  has  had  no 
breakfast.  And  besides,  that  is  not  his  work." 

"Any  work  that  I  tell  him  to  do  is  his,"  Old  Miss 
replied,  drawing  her  thin  lips  together.  I  gave  her  a 
bow  of  most  humble  obedience,  not  that  I  felt  any  rev 
erence  for  her,  but  that  I  would  protect  Young  Master 
against  all  spiteful  upbraiding.  "Dan,"  she  said,  "tell 
Tilly  to  give  you  something  to  eat,  and  then  I  want 
you  to  beat  that  carpet." 

I  looked  at  Bob  and  he  nodded  assent,  gracefully 
enough,  but  I  could  see  that  he  was  not  at  all  pleased. 
I  was  turning  away  when  his  voice  arrested  me, though 
his  words  were  addressed  to  his  mother.  "At  times  I 
have  an  odd  fancy,"  said  he.  "When  I  am  making  a 
speech  in  my  mind  and  a  coldness  chills  my  words,  I 
imagine  that  the  chill  is  an  inheritance  from  you, 
mother." 

Old  Master  laughed,  and  pressed  his  bony  fingers 
till  his  knuckles  cracked.  But  Old  Miss  did  not  make 
a  laughing  matter  of  it ;  perhaps  she  felt  the  sting  of  its 
truth.  "It's  a  singular  thing,"  she  replied,  "that  so 


105  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

cold  a  mother  should  bring  up  so  warm  a  son. 
eral,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  grin  at  me  that  way!" 

"Which  way  shall  I  grin?"  he  asked.  "If  you  know 
of  any  better  way,  just  show  me,  and  I'll  adopt  it. 
But  come,  madam,  don't  be  put  out.  You  must 
remember  that  an  old  man's  humor  dries  with  his 
advancing  years." 

"Humor!"  she  said.  "You  haven't  a  vestige  of  it, 
and  even  if  you  had,  you — "  Her  lips  trembled  and 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  went  down.  "I  have  seen 
trouble  enough — " 

"There,  now,"  said  the  old  man,  his  voice  soft  with 
tenderness.  "Robert,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourself  for  speaking  that  way.  Your  mother  is  not 
cold,  sir,"  he  almost  stormed,  "and  if  ever  I  hear  you 
intimate  it  again,  I'll  thrash  you,  I  don't  care  how  old 
you  are.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  sir." 

"I  am,"  said  Bob,  and  swiftly  crossing  the  floor  he 
kissed  his  mother.  She  put  her  arm  about  his  neck 
and  said  that  she  knew  he  did  not  mean  it;  and  then 
Old  Master  turned  upon  me.  "Go  on,  sir,"  he  cried, 
"and  don't  stand  there  gaping  like  a  fool.  Confound 
it,  you  think  you  ought  to  hear  every  word  that's 
spoken  on  the  place." 

I  hastened  away,  wondering  what  she  meant  by  say- 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  107 

ing  that  she  had  seen  trouble  enough.  Surely  she 
would  permit  no  conversation  to  be  wholly  agreeable, 
certain  it  was  that  her  manner  invited  no  affection. 

The  news  of  Miss  May's  engagement  had  spread 
among  the  negroes,  and  many  a  nappy  head  was  thrust 
forth  seeking  a  look  at  the  man  as  he  walked  about 
the  grounds.  I  learned  from  Bob  that  the  wedding 
was  soon  to  take  place.  The  journey  was  long,  and 
the  man  had  said  that  he  would  not  return  home  with 
out  his  bride.  I  had  passed  him  many  times  in  the 
hall,  in  the  woods,  in  the  road  leading  to  town,  but  not 
until  one  evening  when  I  was  summoned  to  mend  the 
parlor  fire  did  I  get  an  estimating  look  at  him.  I  had 
put  on  a  log  and  had  turned  about  to  go  when  he  asked 
my  name.  I  told  him,  and  he  asked  laughingly  if  I 
were  a  descendant  of  the  Daniel  who  was  cast  into  the 
lion's  den?  I  told  him  that  I  was  a  Daniel  who  had 
come  to  many  a  judgment  and  been  found  wanting. 

"Dan  belongs  to  brother,"  said  Miss  May,  "and 
they  read  the  same  books.  Brother  thinks  a  great  deal 
of  him." 

"Evidently,"  Mr.  Marston  replied.  He  was  a  trim 
looking  man  of  medium  size  and  with  black  whiskers. 
His  teeth  were  very  white  and  his  brow  was  broad  and 
smooth.  He  was  easy  in  manner  and  was  quick  to 


108  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

perceive,  for  noticing  my  almost  instantaneous  meas 
urement  of  him,  he  looked  at  me  sharply  and  said: 
"Well,  I  suppose  you  have  no  objection  to  my  marry 
ing  your  young  mistress?" 

"No  one  could  object  to  her  choice,"  I  replied, 
pleased  with  myself,  and  Miss  May,  smiling  sweetly, 
said:  "Thank  you,  Dan.  Shut  the  door  as  you  go 
out." 

I  took  this  as  a  dismissal,  whether  she  meant  it  or 
not,  and  it  cut  me.  But  my  mind  was  soon  made  to 
feel  at  rest  for  as  I  was  going  up  the  stairs  she  came 
out  and  called  me  softly:  "Dan,"  she  said,  "I  didn't 
want  you  to  talk  very  much  to  Mr.  Marston.  He  is 
from  the  far  South  and  thinks  that  a  negro  that  can 
read  is  a  great  danger  to  the  community,  and  after  I 
had  indiscreetly  told  him  that  you  and  brother  read  the 
same  books,  I  thought  that  it  was  time  for  you  to  go — 
I  didn't  want  him  to  say  anything  to  hurt  your  feel 
ings.  I  want  you  to  like  him." 

This  simple  act  of  kindness  brought  the  tears  to  my 
eyes.  Ah,  through  the  misty  years  I  can  see  her  now, 
standing  in  the  hall  with  upturned  face,  sweet  and 
beautiful. 

Preparations  for  the  wedding  were  hastened  for 
ward,  and  one  day  the  negroes  peeped  through  the 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER 

parlor  door,  as  we  had  peeped,  long  ago,  at  an  array 
of  flowers,  Miss  Lou  lying  among  them.  But  now 
there  was  no  black  man  to  lift  his  faltering  voice  in 
grief — he  was  gone  long  years  ago  and  lay  sleeping 
under  a  dead  apple  tree ;  there  were  soft  words  of  love ; 
and  at  night  there  was  feasting,  the  sounds  of  quick 
feet,  and  the  spirit  of  the  fiddle  was  borne  upon  the  air. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

One  morning  at  breakfast  there  came  an  unexpected 
interruption,  the  arrival  of  Old  Master's  half  brother. 
I  knew  that  he  existed,  for  on  occasions  at  least  a 
year  apart,  I  had  posted  letters  addressed  to  him  and 
directed  to  some  town  away  off  in  Illinois;  but  a  sense 
of  his  unreality  was  so  strong  with  me  that  I  often 
smiled  to  think  that  Old  Master  would  send  a  letter  to 
find  a  shadow.  But  in  came  the  man  that  morning  at 
breakfast,  strikingly  real,  brown-bearded,  tall,  loud 
of  voice,  and  I  thought  rather  roughly  dressed  for  a 
gentleman.  He  was  much  younger  than  Old  Master. 
Some  one,  I  don't  know  who,  had  told  me  that  years 
ago  he  had  wandered  away  in  consequence  of  a  dis 
appointment  in  love,  though  to  look  at  him  now  I 
could  not  believe  that  he  had  ever  given  entertainment 
to  so  tender  a  sentiment.  No  part  of  the  landed  estate 
fell  to  him,  so,  with  a  small  settlement  of  ready  money, 
he  set  forth,  swearing  that  never  again  would  he  put 
foot  upon  that  accursed  blue-grass  spot.  He  had 
never  been  a  drag  upon  Old  Master;  indeed,  he  had 

(no) 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  1H 

been  a  man  of  exceeding  thrift,  had  made  fortunes  but 
had  lost  them.  I  well  recall  his  first  words  upon  step 
ping  into  the  room.  Amid  the  surprise  and  the  bustle 
caused  by  his  sudden  appearance,  his  loud  voice  arose : 

"Don't  want  anybody  to  get  scared.  Sit  down, 
Guilford,  and  you,  too,  Hanna,  (nodding  at  Old  Miss). 
Ah,  and  this  is  the  one  you  call  Bob?  All  right,  got 
no  objections  to  that,  either.  Dropped  my  baggage 
out  there  on  the  porch.  Have  someone  take  it  up. 
Not  now,  plenty  of  time.  Don't  want  anybody  to  get 
scared;  I'm  not  a  pauper.  Shall  insist  upon  paying 
my  way.  Here,  girl,  bring  another  plate;  I'm  as  hun 
gry  as  a  prairie  wolf.  Look  here !  (and  now  he  turned 
to  me).  Don't  want  you  to  call  me  master.  Won't 
have  it;  call  me  Mr.  Clem.  Long  time  since  I  went 
away,  but  nothing  has  changed.  Hurry  up,  there,  with 
that  plate.  Confound  it,  don't  be  put  out  so,  every 
body.  How  are  you  getting  along,  Guilford?" 

All  this  was  rattled  off  before  anyone  else  had  a 
chance  to  say  a  word.  Old  Master  was  glad  to  see 
him  and  the  tears  ran  down  his  wrinkled  cheeks.  He 
tried  to  tell  him  much  but  could  tell  him  nothing 
except  that  he  was  welcome  to  make  his  home  there. 

"What's  board  worth?"  Mr.  Gem  asked,  and  Old 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

Master  cried  out,  "Good  Lord !  Did  I  ever  hear  any 
thing  like  that?  Clem,  is  it  possible  that  you — " 

"Mean  to  pay  my  board  as  long  as  I  stay  here. 
You'll  have  to  take  the  money,  Hanna.  If  you  don't, 
agree  I'll  grab  my  saddle-bags  and  put  out.  I'm  from  a 
place  where  every  man  is  expected  to  pay  his  way. 
Wish  you'd  all  quit  your  everlasting  sniffling.  What 
are  you  doing,  Bob?"  Old  Master  was  now  helping 
his  plate.  "Another  slab  of  that  meat,  Guilford. 
What  are  you  doing,  young  feller?" 

"Preparing  myself  for  the  law,"  Young  Master 
answered  proudly. 

"All  right,  no  particular  harm  in  it.  Good  job  for 
a  lazy  man.  Hanna,  you  hold  your  own  pretty  well. 
Not  as  old  as  I  expected  to  find  you ;  and  Guilford  is  a 
marvel  of  youthfulness.  Don't  know  how  I  happened 
to  come  back — Just  took  the  notion  one  night  and  I 
was  on  the  road  before  daylight  the  next  morning. 
That's  the  way  we  do  things  in  Illinois.  Pass  me  some 
more  of  that  egg-bread.  Hanged,  if  that  ain't  Ken 
tucky  up  and  down.  Old  aristocracy  still  on  its  moul 
dering  throne,  eh?  Good  thing  for  some  people  while 
it  lasts,  but  it  will  tumble  over  pretty  soon." 

"Clem,  you  musn't  talk  that  way,"  Old  Miss  inter 
posed. 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"All  right,  I'll  shut  it  off;  thousands  of  things  to  talk 
about.  What's  board  worth  in  this  neighborhood?" 

"Clem,"  said  Old  Master,  leaning  upon  the  table 
and  looking  at  him,  "I  don't  know  that  I  ever  heard 
of  a  gentleman  paying  board  in  this  neighborhood." 

"Hah!  By  the  hoofs,  I  never  heard  of  a  gentleman 
refusing  to  pay  board  in  any  neighborhood,"  Mr. 
Clem  replied.  "Come,  how  much  am  I  expected  to 
pay?  Can't  get  board  here,  board  somewhere  else." 

"Oh,  that  would  be  a  scandal,"  Old  Miss  cried. 

"Then  let  us  avoid  scandal.  Find  out  what  is  cus> 
ternary  and  let  me  know.  Guilford,  devilish  glad  to 
see  you.  Wish  I  had  come  before.  Bob,  got  a  horse 
you  want  to  trade  for  a  better  one?  I've  got  a  nag  out 
there  that's  a  beauty.  Let's  go  and  look  at  him?"  he 
added,  throwing  down  his  knife  and  fork  and  shoving 
his  chair  back. 

"Not  now,  uncle  Clem,"  the  young  man  replied, 
laughing. 

"Uncle!  That's  good — like  to  hear  it;  gives  me  a 
sort  of  anchor.  I  think  you  and  I  will  get  along  all 
right.  Guilford  told  me,  I  don't  know  how  long  ago — 
g«ot  the  letter  somewhere — that  it  was  your  ambition  to 
become  an  orator.  And  I  can  give  you  a  few  points, 
for  I  have  lived  for  years  in  a  hot  bed  of  free  speech, 


114  MY  YOUIsG  MASTER 

and  without  free  speech,  there  is  no  real  oratory. 
Round  here  they  think  that  Marshall  and  Clay  were 
great  orators,  and  they  were  in  a  way,  but  you  ought 
to  hear  Abe  Lincoln." 

"I  never  heard  of  him,"  Old  Master  spoke  up. 

"Oh,  no;  but  you  will.  He  can  squeeze  mirth  and 
tears  out  of  the  heart  all  at  once.  When  he  arises  to 
speak,  and  even  before  he  has  uttered  a  word,  every 
man  in  the  audience  says  to  himself,  'there  is  my 
brother.'  Guilford,  your  polished  Kentuckians  speak 
out  of  the  book,  by  note,  and  they  may  work  them 
selves  into  a  fine  heat,  but  this  man  Lincoln  cries  from 
the  fullness  of  a  soul  that  the  Lord  has  given  him." 

"Clem,"  said  Old  Master,  bending  a  hard  look  upon 
his  brother  and  rolling  his  pill  of  bread,  "you  tempt 
me  to  say  that  you  are  a  blasphemer  against  the 
majestic  voice  of  my  State,  sir.  Never  was  the  voice 
of  man  truer  than  among  these  graceful  hills,  and 
never  did  the  heart  of  man  beat  warmer  for  freedom 
and  justice.** 

"Ah,"  Mr.  Clem  cried,  "for  freedom,  did  you  say? 
For  slavery,  you  mean." 

"Sir,"  said  Old  Master,  "Henry  Clay  has  spoken  for 
the  bondman." 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  115 

"But  was  he  honored  for  it?"  Mr.  Clem  asked.  "Do 
you  honor  him  for  it?" 

"Clem,  if  you  have  come  to  sow  the  seeds  of  abol 
ition,  to  disgrace  my  household  with  the  mud  brought 
from  your  free  soil — your  sink  hole  of  iniquity — I 
must  request  you  to  go  away." 

"It  is  easier  to  drop  a  subject  than  to  ride  a  long  dis 
tance,"  Mr.  Clem  replied  with  a  broad  smile.  "Got 
any  good  horses?" 

"Horses  native  to  this  land  and  therefore  the  best," 
said  Old  Master. 

"Got  one  you  can't  manage?  If  you  have,  I'll  make 
him  get  down  on  his  knees  and  beg  for  mercy." 

Old  Master  looked  at  Bob  and  laughed.  "We've 
got  a  great  black  horse  we  call  Zeb,  and  our  sick 
quarter  is  sometimes  filled  with  his  victims.  Dan 
here,  can  break  almost  any  piece  of  horse-flesh,  but 
he's  afraid  of  Zeb.  The  negroes  don't  call  him  Zeb — 
they  call  him  the  Devil,  sir." 

"And  I  would  advise  you  not  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  him,  Uncle  Clem,"  said  Young  Master.  "He 
cut  a  great  gash  on  Andrew's  head,  broke  Tony's  arm 
not  long  ago,  and  laid  Dan  up  for  a  week.  We  keep 
him  merely  for  show,  for  he  is  the  most  graceful  thing 
you  ever  saw." 


li§  MY  YOUNG   MASTBfl 

"And  I  will  drive  him  to  town  this  morning,"  Mr. 
Clem  declared.  And  getting  up,  he  added:  "Come, 
show  him  to  me?" 

We  could  but  laugh  at  the  self-confidence  shown  by 
this  rugged  man  from  the  West;  we  felt  that  he  had 
brought  with  him  the  breezy  brag  so  characteristic  of 
his  boundless  territory.  But  I  felt  a  pinch  of  regret, 
for  I  had  conceived  a  liking  for  the  man  and  did  not 
wish  to  see  him  humbled. 

"Come  on,"  said  Old  Master,  leading  the  way,  but 
Old  Miss  interposed.  "You  must  not  go  near  that 
vicious  creature,"  she  said  to  Mr.  Clem.  "Nothing 
would  delight  him  more  than  to  plant  a  hoof  between 
your  eyes,  and  I  declare,  General,  it's  a  shame  that  you 
encourage  such  a  thing." 

"Come  out  and  take  a  drive  with  me,"  Mr.  Clem 
cried,  gently  putting  Old  Miss  out  of  the  way.  But 
she  shuddered  at  the  thought  and  closed  the  door  upon 
us  as  we  passed  out.  "In  one  respect  I  am  not  a  true 
Kentuckian,"  said  my  Young  Master  to  Mr.  Clem  as 
we  walked  along  toward  the  stable.  "I  could  never 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  worship  a  horse." 

Mr.  Clem  stepped  in  front  of  the  young  man,  halted 
and  looked  at  him  and  then  at  Old  Master.  "Guil- 


ford,"  said  he,  "can  it  be  possible  that  this  is  your 
son?" 

"Wait  until  you  see  the  Devil,  and  you  will  deny  that 
you  are  my  brother,"  Old  Master  laughed,  rubbing  his 
thin  hands  in  a  sort  of  mischievous  glee.  Bob  took 
Mr.  Clem  by  the  arm  and  as  they  walked  along  I  heard 
him  say :  "If  I  had  known  you,  I  should  have  wished 
for  your  coming.  There  is  something  so  unexpected 
about  you  that  I  must  call  you  the  new  man — you  are 
the  very  opposite  of  the  books  I  have  been  reading." 

^Yes,  Bub,  I  am  the  opposite  of  all  your  teaching." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  like  the  word  Bub." 

"But  you'll  have  to  stand  it;  I'm  going  to  pay  my 
way,  and  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil  are  willing 
to  put  up  with  much  from  that  sort  of  a  man." 

We  had  now  come  to  the  stable.  Through  a  small 
window  we  saw  the  fiery  horse's  black  eyes  shining. 
"Bring  him  out,"  Mr.  Clem  commanded. 

"That  is  easy  enough,"  Old  Master  replied.  "It  is 
only  when  you  attempt  to  put  leather  on  him  that  he 
shows  his  mettle," 

"Bring  him  out,"  said  Mr.  Clem.  "Mere,  boy,  bring 
me  a  Bridle  and  a  set  of  buggy  harness." 

There  was  a  great  commotion  in  the  barn-yard,  and 
the  negroes  went  running  to  and  fro,  amid  whisperings 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

and  the  suppressed  excitement  of  expected  sport.  The 
horse  was  led  out  by  the  halter,  a  picture  of  devilish 
majesty,  head  high  in  contempt,  nostrils  broad,  eyes 
afire.  The  harness  lay  in  a  heap  upon  the  ground.  Mr. 
Clem  took  up  the  bridle.  In  an  instant  the  horse  had 
jerked  the  halter  from  the  negro's  grasp,  was  standing 
almost  erect  on  his  hind  feet,  and  he  came  toward  Mr. 
Clem,  cutting  the  air  with  his  fore  hoofs.  The  rest  of 
us  fell  back,  one  over  the  other,  but  Mr.  Clem  did  not 
move.  Old  Master  shouted  at  him,  but  paying  no 
heed  he  stood,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  advancing 
beast.  I  was  off  to  one  side  and  could  see  his  face, 
hard-set  and  with  steady  eyes.  "Ho!"  he  said,  low  in 
his  breast,  and  the  horse's  feet  fell  to  the  ground.  I 
don't  think  I  ever  saw  so  complete  a  picture  of  aston 
ishment.  The  horse,  cowed  by  that  one  low  word, 
stood  there  trembling,  with  the  coming  sweat  glisten 
ing  upon  his  flanks.  Mr.  Clem  stepped  forward  and 
touched  his  neck  and  he  squatted  and  trembled.  A 
loud  murmur  arose  among  the  negroes.  The  Devil  had 
been  conquered  with  .a  word.  He  took  the  bit  and 
suffered  the  harness  to  be  put  upon  him;  he  was  put 
between  the  shafts  and  with  but  one  protest  he  was 
driven  about  the  grounds.  That  one  protest  was  a 
convulsive  kick.  Mr.  Clem  got  out  of  the  buggy, 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  119 

walked  round,  caught  him  in  the  nostrils,  and  with  a 
violent  torsion  cried,  "Ho!" 

That  was  a  great  day  on  the  plantation, 
and  before  nightfall  the  news  had  spread  about 
the  neighborhood,  and  at  evening  a  number  of 
people  came  to  welcome  Mr.  Clem's  return  to  the 
home  of  his  youth.  The  degree  of  fawning  shown  on 
that  occasion  was  of  great  amusement  to  my  Young 
Master,  for  he  knew  that  had  his  uncle  come  back  a 
great  scholar,  an  authority  upon  some  scientific  dis 
covery,  he  would  have  been  suffered  to  poke  about 
almost  unobserved;  but  appearing  as  the  conqueror  of 
a  vicious  horse,  he  laid  a  strong  hold  upon  the  admira 
tion  of  his  fellows. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  coming  of  Mr.  Clem  had  a  great  effect  upon  our 
household.  It  was  like  a  new  breeze,  blowing  in  from 
afar  off  where  the  woods  are  fresh.  With  his  foot  he 
was  ever  ready  to  press  upon  a  tradition,  and  to  leave 
off  if  the  annoyance  was  too  great;  he  experimented 
constantly  with  the  sentiments  and  prejudices  of  any 
one  who  happened  to  be  near  him.  He  joked  with 
Old  Miss,  something  ever  dangerous  to  undertake, 
and  at  times  he  wrought  sorely  upon  Old  Master  by 
arguing  abolition  with  him.  But  no  matter  how  hoi 
might  be  the  discussion,  it  was  always  pleasantly  tem 
pered,  in  the  end,  by  some  joke  borrowed  from  the 
sturdy  men  who  were  busy  with  the  building  of  a  new 
political  empire  in  the  West.  Lincoln  was  his  hero. 
He  had  lived  in  Springfield,  and  had  seen  the  greal 
stump-speaker  striding  across  a  pasture  land  with  a 
naked  youngster  on  his  back,  and  with  the  Galilean's 
smile  upon  his  face.  From  his  saddle-bags  he  brought 
forth  newspapers  with  abstracts  of  the  backwoods* 
man's  speeches,  words  that  rang  like  an  axe  on  a  frosty 

(lao) 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  121 

morning,  and  he  never  was  weary  of  declaring  that  the 
man  was  inspired.  "He  is  Peter  come  back  to  the 
earth,"  I  remember  hearing  him  say,  "and  upon  a  rock 
he  is  going  to  build  a  great  church  not  for  caste,  but 
for  man." 

"If  you  are  going  to  worship  a  man,  let  him  be  a 
hero,"  Old  Master  cried.  We  were  in  the  library  and 
the  elder  brother  was  walking  up  and  down  in  the  fire 
light.  I  was  hunting  a  book  for  Young  Master  and 
purposely  made  a  lag  of  my  errand. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  a  hero,"  said  Mr. 
Clem,  looking  up  from  his  pipe  in  the  corner. 

"A  man  who  does  something  for  his  country,"  Old 
Master  retorted,  still  walking  with  his  hands  behind 
him. 

Mr.  Clem  smiled.  "Yes,  that  is  a  hero,"  said  he. 
"But  what  would  you  have  a  man  do?  Overcome  a 
band  of  Mexicans  and  win  a  new  territory,  ©r  save  his 
entire  country?" 

Old  Master  halted,  posing  to  make  an  impressive 
reply,  but  at  that  moment  Mr.  Clem  sprang  to  his  feet, 
threw  open  the  window  and  thrusting  forth  his  head 
shouted:  "Hi,  there,  don't  you  want  to  swap  that 
horse  for  a  better  one?" 

He  had  heard  the  sounds  of  hoofs  and  had  seen  a 


122  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

man  riding  past  the  gate.  The  man  reined  up  and 
looked  round.  "I  don't  know  but  I  might,"  he 
answered.  "Well,  just  wait  a  minute,"  Mr.  Clem 
shouted  and  turned  about  to  leave  the  room.  Old 
Master  frowned.  "You  are  not  going  to  swap  horses 
here  on  a  Sunday  morning,"  he  said.  "It  will  bring 
a  scandal  upon  us." 

"Now,  Guilford,  that's  nonsense,"  Mr.  Clem  pro 
tested.  And  then  he  shouted  again  from  the  window: 
"Ride  on  down  to  the  end  of  the  lane  and  I'll  meet 
you  there." 

He  hastened  away,  and  just  before  dinner  he  came 
back  leading  a  trim  horse,  so  much  better  than  his  old 
nag  that  his  brother  racked  himself  with  a  loud  laugh. 
His  shrewdness  was  indeed  remarkable.  He  came  to 
us  on  a  woolly-looking  plow  horse,  and  before  he  was 
in  the  neighborhood  two  months,  he  was  the  owner  of 
three  as  fine  mares  as  I  have  ever  seen.  The 
negroes  looked  upon  him  in  the  light  of  a  vastly  super 
ior  being,  and  about  the  fire  at  night  they  told  tales  of 
his  marvelous  power.  He  would  permit  none  of  them 
to  call  him  master,  and  at  first  this  told  against  him, 
bespeaking  as  they  thought  a  very  humble  station; 
but  their  prejudice  was  overturned  when  they  per 
ceived  that  among  the  high-born  he  could  hold  his 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  123 

head  with  a  lofty  pride.  Sometimes  he  talked  in  a  way 
almost  to  chill  my  blood.  I  have  often  mused  upon  his 
meeting  me  one  evening  as  I  strolled  along  the  shores 
of  the  little  creek,  listening  to  the  music  bursting  with 
more  boldness  as  the  twilight  settled  down.  Spring 
was  come  and  I  smelt  the  smoke  of  the  dead  grass 
burning  in  the  fields.  I  had  halted  and  was  standing 
on  a  rock  when  he  came  up  to  me. 

"Fishing?"  he  asked. 

"No,  sir;  listening  to  the  water." 

"And  yet  they  tell  us  that  the  negro  has  no  soul,** 
he  said. 

"No  gentleman  has  ever  told  me  that,"  I  ventured 
to  reply. 

"No,"  he  rejoined,  stepping  upon  the  rock.  "The 
gentlemen  acknowledge  your  soul  so  that  the  pulpit 
may  continue  to  hold  you  in  slavery.  I  know  that  you 
and  Bob  are  great  friends,  know  all  that,  but  if  I  were 
in  your  place  I  would  leave." 

"Mr.  Clem!"  I  cried. 

"Yes,  I  would.  Here,  you  are  a  young  fellow  of 
parts  waiting  for  what?  Nothing.  Why,  you  could 
go  North  and  make  a  man  of  yourself." 

"I  am  going  to  make  a  man  of  myself  as  it  is,"  1 
replied,  actually  trembling. 


124  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

"Make  a  man  of  yourself  for  someone  else.  Young 
man,  the  world  is  becoming  too  enlightened  to  permit 
of  slavery  much  longer.  They  tell  you  that  God  made 
slaves.  That's  an  insult  to  the  Almighty.  I  don't 
really  advise  you  to  leave  your  master,  for  I  can  see 
that  Bob  makes  your  bed  as  easy  as  it  could  well  be 
made;  but  it  is  an  infamous  shame  that  a  young  man 
as  intelligent  as  you  can  have  nothing  but  a  life  of 
bondage  to  look  forward  to.  It  is  true  that  as  com 
pared  with  the  others,  you  walk  on  rose-buds  and  sleep 
on  feathered  palm,  but  you  are  a  slave  for  all  that." 

He  moved  up  closer  to  me,  put  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder  and  turned  me  about  as  if  in  the  growing 
darkness  he  would  study  the  expression  of  my  face, 
the  effect  his  words  had  wrought.  I  trembled  under 
the  light  weight  of  his  hand,  for  it  was  as  if  freedom  from 
afar  off  had  touched  me;  but  I  could  give  no  ear  to 
this  bold  man's  suggestion.  I  had  read  many  a  book 
conceived  by  great  minds  that  abhored  servility,  poets 
that  ha<l  shaken  their  fists  in  the  faces  of  the  earth's 
annointed,  orators  whose  last  utterances  were  cried 
aloud  for  the  freedom  of  man,  not  the  white  man  alone, 
but  man.  All  my  life  I  had  been  tapping  upon  the 
head  the  ambitions  that  arose  within  me,  killing  them 
and  seeing  their  skeletons  bleach  in  the  desert  of  my 


MT  YOUNG   MASTER  125 

fancy;  and  with  a  stout  and  determined  heart  I  could 
have  turned  my  back  upon  Old  Master,  for  his  years 
were  nearly  spent;  but  I  could  not  leave  the  young 
man,  though  the  incense  of  freedom  filled  my  nostrils. 
Not  many  miles  away  flowed  the  Ohio  River.  Beyond 
that  stream  were  thousands  of  people  who  would  be 
glad  to  help  me,  would  regard  it  a  duty  which  they 
owed  to  their  religion ;  and  farther  away  was  a  British 
domain,  where  all  men  were  free — the  way  was  clear, 
but  in  that  direction  I  could  not  have  stirred  from  that 
rock.  My  heart  was  my  real  master. 

"Mr.  Clem,"  said  I,  and  I  must  have  sobbed,  for  he 
turned  away  to  hide  his  own  face,  "I  may  be  a  fool, 
but  I  cannot  be  a  traitor  to  my  affections.  I  wear  a 
chain,  but  it  is  made  of  gold,  and  I  would  rather 
exchange  it  for  one  of  iron  than  to  know  that  Bob 
Gradley  had  lost  confidence  in  me.  I  know  that  I 
could  amount  to  something  in  the  world — I  feel  it;  I 
am  convinced  that  I  could  go  to  the  North  and  help 
free  the  wretched  creatures  in  the  far  South,  but  I 
should  have  to  speak  against  my  Young  Master  and 
that  I  could  not  do."  He  caught  my  hand  with  a 
tight  grip,  and  I  continued:  "I  value  your  kindness;  I 
know  that  it  is  genuine,  but  I  must  ask  you  no*  fc» 
tempt  me  again." 


126  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

And  still  harder  did  he  grip  my  hand  as  he  replied: 
"There  is  a  salt  of  the  earth  and  it  never  loses  its  savor, 
and  you  are  of  that  salt.  If  you  had  come  to  me  and 
begged  me  to  point  out  the  road  to  freedom,  I  might 
have  sent  you  to  your  Master;  your  fidelity  and 
strength  caused  me  to  speak  to  you  in 'your  behalf.  But 
I  did  not  know  the  full  measure  of  that  strength  and 
fidelity.  I  know  now  and  I  honor  you.  But  keep  to 
your  books;  the  time  will  come." 

Suddenly  he  broke  away  and  turned  on  a  trot 
toward  the  turn-pike,  not  far  off.  I  heard  the  hoofs  of 
a  horse  beating  on  the  hard  macadam,  and  soon  I 
heard  this  queer  man  shout,  "Hi,  there;  who  ever  you 
are.  Hold  on  a  minute.  Believe  I  can  give  you  a 
better  horse  for  the  one  you  are  riding."  The  hoofs 
fell  slower,  and  a  voice  replied:  "That  you,  Clem 
Gradley?  Don't  want  to  transact  that  sort  of  business 
with  you — Came  in  one  of  having  to  walk  after  the  last 
swap.  Another  whet  and  I  couldn't  more  than  crawl." 

The  hoofs  fell  faster  and  Mr.  Clem,  chuckling  mirth 
fully,  returned  to  the  rock.  It  was  now  quite  dark  and 
I  could  not  see  his  face,  but  I  knew  that  he  was  in 
favor  with  himself,  for  he  had  clapped  his  hat  on  the 
back  part  of  his  head  (a  good-humored  bravado  char- 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  127 

acteristic    of    him)    and    continued    to    shake    with 
joviality. 

"I  think  that  was  Lige  Berry,"  he  said.  "They 
told  me  that  he  had  nipped  everybody  in  this  county, 
but  I  guess  I  skinned  him  a  little.  That's  the  way  to 
do,  Dan.  When  they  try  to  skin  you,  skin  them. 
Suppose  we  go  on  toward  the  house?  Yes,  sir-ree," 
he  continued  as  we  walked  along,  "skin  the  skinners  in 
a  horse  trade.  And  skin  anybody  else  for  that  matter. 
Everything  is  fair  in  a  horse  trade — you've  got  to  be 
slick  and  believe  nothing.  I  remember  starting  out 
once  on  an  old  mule.  I  had  owned  a  steamboat  and  it 
had  burnt  up  without  a  copper  of  insurance.  I  thought 
I'd  make  my  way  to  St.  Louis  and  there  get  something 
to  do.  A  captain  offered  me  passage  on  his  boat,  but 
I  told  him  no,  that  I  would  try  the  luck  of  going  over 
land.  Well,  as  I  tell  you,  I  set  out  on  that  old  mule, 
bought  on  credit  for  twenty-three  dollars.  I  was  a 
long  time  on  the  road,  months,  I  might  say,  but  when 
I  got  to  St.  Louis  I  drove  in  about  as  fine  a  l©t  of 
horses  as  you  ever  saw.  And  three  weeks  afterward  I 
steamed  up  the  Illinois  River  on  a  beat  of  my  own. 
I  swapped  it  for  a  stock  of  goods  in  old  Salem — always 
somebody  in  that  town  ready  to  swap  off  his  store, 
knowing  that  he  couldn't  get  the  worst  b?  it—and  I 


128  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

staid  there  until  I  went  broke.  I  don't  know  why  I 
never  could  hold  on  to  anything.  I  am  great  up  to  a 
certain  point,  and  then  I  go  to  pieces.  Why,  if  I  had 
owned  this  farm  I  would  have  made  it  three  times  as 
large  and  then  lost  it  all.  I've  done  most  everything 
except  to  sponge  on  people,  and  I  never  could  do  that. 
Set  up  a  drug  store  in  a  little  place  called  'Prophet's 
Town'  on  Rock  River.  Didn't  know  anything  about 
drugs — helped  a  feller  too  liberally  to  something  his 
prescription  called  for  and  poisoned  him.  He  didn't 
die,  but  I  thought  it  was  time  for  me  to  get  out  of 
that  sort  of  business.  Yes,  and  I  practiced  law. 
Didn't  know  anything  about  law,  but  I  could  talk. 
Defended  a  feller  and  they  hanged  him.  Of  course 
that  might  have  happened  with  anybody — with  Lin 
coln  himself,  for  that  matter — but  a  prejudice  was 
raised  against  me.  It  tickled  Lincoln.  Of  course  he 
didn't  want  to  see  the  man  hanged,  but  he  had  to 
laugh  at  me.  'Gradley,'  he  said  to  me  shortly  after 
ward,  'I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor.  I  have  an  enemy, 
a  man  that  has  always  stood  in  my  path,  and  I  want 
him  removed.  You  can  do  it.  I  will  have  it  whis 
pered  about  that  he  is  a  thief;  you  defend  him  and 
.they'll  send  him  to  the  penitentiary- for  Iff  el'  " 

The  supper  bell  was  now  ringing  and  I  hastened 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  129 

into  the  house  to  take  my  place  behind  Young  Master's 
chair.  He  had  many  a  time  commanded  me  to  leave 
off  this  useless  act  of  servitude,  but  such  a  favoritism 
would  have  inflamed  Old  Miss  against  me,  so  I 
insisted  upon  a  continuance  of  the  office. 

Old  Master  and  Old  Miss  were  Hard-Shell  Baptists 
and  at  supper  there  was  present  an  old  and  honored 
exponent  of  that  faith,  Elija  Brooks.  He  visited  us 
often,  but  Bob  and  I  had  a  stronger  cause  than  this  to 
call  him  to  mind.  Once  we' had  taken  his  rubber  over 
shoes  and  made  a  town-ball  of  them  and  had  been 
severely  whipped  for  our  enterprise.  The  old  gentle 
man  refused  to  erase  this,  our  act  of  meanness,  from 
his  mind,  and  whenever  he  looked  at  me  I  felt  that  my 
soul  was  surely  lost.  Upon  this  visit  he  was  in  higher 
spirits.  Out  in  his  neighborhood,  we  were  soon 
informed,  a  man  discovered  to  be  an  abolitionist  had 
been  tarred  and  feathered,  an  example  of  God's  aveng 
ing  wrath ;  and  the  old  man's  mouth  appeared  to  water 
with  the  delicious  recollection  of  the  sight.  "They 
came  to  my  house,"  he  said  as  he  passed  his  plate  for  a 
Shanghai  rooster's  breast,  "and  asked  my  opinion  in 
case  the  fellow  was  found  guilty.  I  took  down  .the 
good  book  and  sought  instruction,  and  I  think  that  I 


180  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

modified  his  punishment  when  I  recommended  tar 
and  feathers.  Ah,  Brother  Guilford,  the  ways  of  the 
devil  are  many  and  sly;  we  must  keep  a  constant  look 
out  for  him." 

"He  is  never  idle  a  moment,"  said  Old  Miss  with  a 
sigh. 

Old  Master  didn't  say  much.  He  wasn't  a  very 
strong  believer  in  the  devil,  and  but  for  his  negroes  and 
his  blue-grass  land,  he  had  surely  been  turned  out  of 
the  church  for  saying,  in  the  midst  of  a  God-loving 
assembly  upon  his  own  veranda,  "the  devil  be 
damned!" 

"What  had  the  man  done?"  Mr.  Clem  asked,  and  I 
saw  his  face  harden. 

"Why,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Brooks,  "he  had  openly 
set  our  institutions  at  defiance  and  proclaimed  aboli 
tion.  He  said  that  no  Christian  could  own  human 
flesh  and  blood." 

"Had  he  been  in  the  community  very  long?"  Mr. 
Clem  asked. 

"Several  years,"  the  preacher  answered.  "And 
there  comes  in  a  strange  part  of  the  affair,"  he  con 
tinued.  "He  had  lived  among  us  for  that  length  of 
time  and  had  never  been  known  to  steal  anything  or 
to  commit  any  sort  of  depredation." 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  131 

"Marvelous,"  Mr.  Clem  cried,  setting  his  cup  vio 
lently  upon  the  table.  "Hadn't  stolen  anything! 
Why,  sir,  I  expected  you  to  tell  me  that  he  had  mur 
dered  women  and  children." 

The  unsuspecting  preacher  was  deeply  moved  by 
the  earnestness  of  Mr.  Clem,  but  Old  Master  slily 
shook  his  head  as  a  warning  not  to  go  toe  far,  and  Old 
Miss  cleared  her  throat.  "It  is  a  thousand  wonders," 
Mr.  Brooks  went  on,  "that  he  had  not  committed 
murder;  and  now  it  comes  to  mind  that  certain  little 
pilferings  throughout  our  neighborhood  may  justly 
be  laid  to  him." 

"No  doubt  of  it,"  Mr.  Clem  cried. 

"It  is  at  least  a  well-founded  suspicion,"  said  the 
preacher. 

"He  ought  to  be  burned  at  the  stake!"  Mr.  Clem 
shouted,  and  the  preacher,  his  suspicions  aroused  at 
this  outbreak  of  vehemence,  looked  searchingly  at  the 
man  from  the  West.  "I  would  not  advise  quite  so 
stringent  a  measure,"  said  he,  turning  his  eyes  upon 
Old  Master  and  then  directly  his  gaze  again  at  Mr. 
Clem. 

"Oh,  yes,"  Mr.  Clem  insisted,  "I  would  even  go 
further  than  that.  I  would  burn  him  at  the  stake  and 
if  he  has  any  children  I  would  skin  them  for  the  delight 


132  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

of  the  Sunday  school.  But  I  forget.  Your  denomina 
tion  has  no  Sunday  schools." 

"Sir,"  said  the  preacher,  "I  will  waive  your  sarcasm 
to  refute  your  attack  upon  my  church,"  and  he  had 
squared  himself  to  deliver  a  harangue  when  Old  Mas 
ter  struck  the  table  with  his  fist.  "I  want  an  end  of 
this  right  now,"  he  snorted,  shaking  his  head,  and  with 
his  nose  looking  more  than  ever  like  an  eagle's  beak. 

The  preacher  took  no  part  of  this  reprimand  to  him 
self;  indeed,  he  struck  in  with  an  approval  of  Old  Mas 
ter's  violence.  "You  are  scarcely  expected  to  restrain 
yourself,  Brother  Guilford,"  said  he.  "The  Lord  has 
'  not  asked  us  to  put  up  with  everything,  and  most  of 
all  with  sentiments  that  seek  the  destruction  of  our 
country." 

Is  it  not  singular,  I  must  stop  to  reflect,  that  only  a 
few  years  ago  a  large  part  of  our  country  believed  that 
liberty  and  prosperity  depended  upon  slavery?  This 
old  preacher  I  knew  to  be  an  honest  man,  a  God- 
serving  and  a  generous  man.  His  plantation  was 
large,  his  soil  strong,  his  crops  bountiful,  and  he  gave 
nearly  everything  to  the  poor ;  but,  viewing  him  in  the 
broad  light  of  to-day,  his  heart  was  narrow  and  his 
soul  was  blind.  Such  was  tke  atmosphere  in  which 
we  lived,  beautiful  and  romantic,  but  filted  with  an 


.  MY  YOUNG  MASTER  133 

inflammable  gas ;  and  one  hot  word  would  serve  to  set 
it  off.  I  remember  that  at  a  store  not  far  from  our 
house  a  man  sat  on  a  box,  reading  the  "New  York 
Tribune."  A  deputy  sheriff,  standing  near,  discovered 
the  name  of  the.  publication,  tore  it  from  the  man's 
grasp,  threw  it  upon  the  ground,  spurned  it  with  his 
foot  and  swore  that  he  would  shoot  the  person  who 
attempted  to  take  it  up.  The  paper  was  not  taken  up, 
but  the  question  was  discussed  at  the  polls,  and  the 
deputy  was  elected  sheriff.  Still  the  wise  men  in  the 
East  were  at  work  quietly  with  the  pen  which  soon 
should  be  supported  by  the  sword. 

Conversation  that  evening  fell  pleasantly  enough, 
after  Old  Master's  forceful  veto,  and  out  upon  the  ver 
anda  where  the  air  was  soft  they  sat  until  a  late  hour, 
Young  Master  with  them,  and  I,  seated  on  the  steps. 
Mr.  Clem  sang  a  dolefully-comic  song,  "The  State  of 
Illinois,"  which  moved  the  preacher  to  gracious  laugh 
ter,  and  Old  Master  told  many  a  humorous  story. 
But  in  the  height  of  this  pleasantry  Old  Miss  broke  in 
with  the  trouble  that  was  hers,  one  daughter  dead  and 
the  other  married  and  gone  afar  off.  This  I  thought 
was  to  tell  the  preacher  that  it  was  time  to  pray  and  go 
to  bed.  And  he  must  have  accepted  it  as  a  hint,  for 
shortly  afterward  he  said:  "Brother  Guilford,  let  us 


134  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

pray!"  THen  came  a  solemn  shuffle  as  they  followed 
the  preacher  to  his  knees.  I  was  included  in  the  invi 
tation  to  ask  God  to  help  me  and  I  knelt  up©n  the 
stone  walk  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps.  From  a  dis 
tance  came  the  song  of  the  ignorantly-happy  negro ;  I 
heard  the  opening  notes  of  a  pack  of  hounds  on  a  hill 
side  far  away,  and  the  creek  lifted  its  voice  in  a  sweeter 
prayer  than  man  could  utter.  The  preacher  implored 
the  Lord  to  bless  Old  Master's  household,  white  and 
black;  to  hasten  the  day  when  the  holy  word  of  the 
Savior  should  be  acknowledged  throughout  the  earth. 
He  prayed  that  all  evil  might  be  stricken  from  the  sin- 
inclined  mind  of  man;  that  the  benighted  politician 
who  strove  to  prevent  the  admission  into  the  union  of 
more  slave  territory  might  be  persuaded  to  see  the 
error  of  interfering  with  the  progress  of  the  South, 
and  closed  with  asking  God  to  bless  all  mankind.  The 
hanging  lamp  in  the  hall  had  been  lighted,  and  as  the 
old  preacher  passed  under  it  I  could  see  from  where  I 
now  stood  on  the  veranda  that  he  tottered  with  emo 
tion,  so  fervent  had  been  his  supplication;  and  I 
thought  of  the  prayers  in  another  part  of  our  country; 
the  gray  men  imploring  our  Father  to  hasten  the  time 
when  the  chain  should  drop  from  the  slave.  Ah,  man, 
self-appointed  Keeper  of  the  Maker's  seat,  you  p*ay 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  135 

that  your  brother  may  be  cleansed  and  then  you  shoot 
him.  But  I  will  not  moralize  against  you,  for  I  am 
earthly  enough  to  believe  that  war  is  sometimes  a 
blessing,  that  the  world's  greatest  progress  has  been 
sprinkled  with  blood — blood,  the  emblem  of  the 
salvation. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

I  went  with  my  young  master  immediately  to  his 
room.  He  was  beginning  already  to  withdraw  him 
self  from  other  studies  and  to  devote  all  his. time  to 
the  law ;  so  taking  up  a  sheep-bound  book,  he  began  to 
read  aloud.  Suddenly  he  flung  the  book  down  and 
leaned  back  in  his  chair.  "Law,"  he  said,  "is  supposed 
to  be  common  sense,  but  I  have  about  reached  the 
conclusion  that  there  is  no  common  sense  in  the 
human  family." 

"So  soon?"  I  asked. 

"So  late,  you  mean,"  he  replied.  "A  boy  can  some 
times  see  what  an  old  man  has  failed  to  discover. 
Now  take  that  preacher,  as  good  an  old  fellow  as  you 
would  find  in  a  day's  ride,  and  note  how  pinched  his 
mind  is." 

"In  what  way,  Bob?"  I  asked. 

He    stiffened    up    and    looked   hard   at   me,    and 

standing  near,  I  bowed  until  my  head  almost  touched 

the  table.    I  had  called  him  Bob,  a  familiarity  that  I 

don't  think  I  had  ever  before  ventured  upon,  and  it  fell 

(136) 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  137 

like  a  mallet.  When  I  straightened  up,  he  bowed  to  me 
and  not  a  word  was  spoken  on  the  subject  of  my  neg 
lect  to  put  "Mars."  before  his  name. 

"You  ask  in  what  way  is  his  mind  pinched.  I  might 
answer  by  saying  in  every  way,  but  I'll  specify  one. 
He  believes  that  he's  serving  God  when  he  puts  tar 
and  feathers  on  a  man  who  has  ventured  to  express  his 
opinion." 

"But  in  this  respect  is  he  more  narrow  than  others  I 
could  mention?"  I  asked,  for  I  could  take  issue  with 
him,  argue  and  even  quarrel  with  him  without  treading 
upon  ground  too  oozy  with  familiarity.  "He  believes 
that  slavery  is  a  God-ordained  institution.  Don't 
you?" 

I  shall  never  forget  the  look  he  gave  me.  I  stood 
with  my  arms  folded  looking  down  upon  his  handsome 
face,  his  Greek  head.  A  lock  of  hair  had  fallen  upon 
his  brow,  and  he  slowly  put  it  back,  still  looking  at 
me,  and  there  was  a  strange,  thrilling  music  in  his 
voice  when  he  spoke:  "Did  I  teach  your  mind  to  eat 
that  it  might  gulp  such  food?" 

"You  gave  me  the  bill  of  fare  and  were  generous 
enough  to  invite  me  to  help  myself,"  was  the  answer 
I  made. 

"But  I  didn't  tell  you  to  eat  filth." 


138  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"And  filth  I  did  not  eat,  but  I  swallowed  many  a 
mouthful  of  reason." 

"But  did  any  one  of  those  mouthfuls  tell  you  that  I 
considered  slavery  a  God-ordained  institution?" 

"Not  you  especially,  but  you  belong  to  a  caste." 

"Still  I  am  no  fool.  Who  gave  the  slaves  to  Rome? 
Conquest.  What  led  to  conquest?  Physical  superior 
ity.  And  wasn't  there  a  grandeur  in  that?  And  is  not 
a  grandeur  almost  a  sacred  thing?" 

Now  here  was  an  argument  and  it  might  have  been 
prolonged,  but  at  that  moment  there  came  a  tap  at  the 
door.  Master  cried  an  invitation  to  come  in,  and  Mr. 
Clem  entered. 

"What  are  you  boys  talking  so  loud  about?"  he 
inquired,  taking  a  chair  and  putting  his  feet  upon  the 
table.  "Didn't  know  but  you  might  be  trying  to  swap 
horses." 

"An  exchange  of  night  mares,"  Bob  replied,  reach 
ing  over  and  moving  his  inkstand. 

"That's  all  right,  but  do  you  make  him  stand  up  all 
the  time?"  Mr.  Clem  asked,  nodding  at  me. 

Bob  laughed.    "He  can  sit  down  if  he  wants  to." 

"Well,  then,  please  do,"  Mr.  Clem  said,  looking  at  a 
chair  and  motioning  toward  me.  "It  makes  my  legs 
hurt  to  see  you  standing  there."  I  sat  down  and  he 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  139 

continued:  "I  noticed  that  our  old  preacher  rode 
pretty  good  stock  over  here." 

"You  didn't  see  him  when  he  rode  up,"  said  Bob. 

"No,  but  I  took  a  lantern  just  now  and  went  out  to 
the  stable  and  had  one  of  the  boys  find  his  horse  for 
me.  Yes,  sir,  pretty  good  sorrel  horse,  fine  shoulders, 
but  nostrils  rather  small.  Good  bottom,  though.  I 
went  to  his  room  after  I  came  back  and  found  him  in 
bed,  but  I  got  him  interested  in  my  nag,  and  if  he 
ain't  walking  before  three  weeks  pass  he'll  ride  on  a 
straight  line  out  of  my  circuit.  Does  he  hold  prayers 
of  a  morning?  Of  course  he  does,  though;  wouldn't 
miss  an  opportunity,  you  know.  Well,  I'll  join  him, 
and  afterwards  put  in  a  few  petitions  of  my  own.  It's 
not  right  for  a  preacher  to  ride  such  a  horse  any  way. 
Ought  to  walk;  for  don't  the  Bible  say  something 
about  how  beautiful  are  the  feet  of  those  that  tread  the 
path  of  righteousness?  Strikes  me  that  I've  heard 
something  of  the  sort.  Tarred  and  feathered  him,  eh? 
Bob,  do  you  know  what  would  happen  if  they  should 
dab  any  of  their  tar  on  me?" 

"I  don't  believe  you  would  submit  very  quietly, 
Uncle  Clem." 

"Well,  I  wot  not.  Wot's  ail  right  there,  ain't  it? 
Yes,  I  guess  it  is.  They  might  put  the  stuff  on  me, 


140  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

but  do  you  know  what  would  happen  after  they  got  all 
through  with  their  fun?  There'd  be  more  fun.  I'd 
get  one  of  these  old  fashioned  blunder-busses,  load  it 
with  nails  and  scraps  of  iron  and  scatter  flesh  all  over 
this  community.  By  the  flint  hoofs  of  the  devil  I  wish 
they'd  smear  tar  on  me.  But  I  musn't  argue  any  more 
with  that  preacher.  I  want  his  horse." 

"You  wouldn't  cheat  him,  would  you,  Uncle  Clem?" 

There  was  astonishment  in  the  look  Mr.  Clem  bent 
upon  the  young  man.  "Cheat  him?  I  don't  exactly 
understand.  Bob,  there's  no  such  thing  as  cheating  in 
a  horse  trade.  Man  tells  me  that  his  horse  has  good 
eyes.  I  look  at  the  eyes  and  see  that  they  are  defect 
ive.  Man  is  a  liar,  but  hasn't  deceived  me,  therefore  I 
am  not  cheated.  I  tell  a  man  that  my  horse  has  good 
eyes.  He  looks  and  fails  to  see  a  defect  and  swaps. 
Afterward  finds  out  horse  blind  of  an  eye.  Who's 
fault?  His  own — error  in  judgment." 

"That  is  a  very  comfortable  way  to  put  it,"  said  the 
young  man.  "But  suppose  you  buy  something  and  the 
dealer  misrepresents  it?" 

"I  hold  him  accountable,"  Mr.  Clem  replied. 
"Merchandising  is  one  thing  and  trading  horses 
another.  The  keeper  of  a  store  is  a  catch-penny 
figurer  upon  small  or  large  margins  of  profit,  which- 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

ever  the  case  may  be.  Some  little  shrewdness  is 
required,  but  above  all,  he  must  be  a  fawner  and  a  man 
of  dogged  patience.  He  advertises  that  the  world  may, 
with  perfect  safety,  take  his  word.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  horse  trader  is  a  sort  of  adventurer,  a  knight  with 
sharp  judgment  for  a  lance  and  with  strong  assertion 
for  a  battle-axe.  He  takes  no  advantage  of  man's 
necessity,  but  challenges  him.  He  needn't  enter  the 
combat — he  can  say,  'no,  thank  you,'  and  ride  on." 

He  took  out  a  large  plug  of  tobacco  and  with  a  Barlow 
knife,  cut  off  a  wedge-shaped  piece,  wiped  the  blade  on 
his  trousers,  snapped  it  shut,  returned  both  knife  and 
tobacco  to  his  pocket,  put  the  wedge  into  his  mouth 
and  turned  it  about  with  exceeding  satisfaction. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  went  on,  "the  horse  trader  is  a  man  of 
skill,  going  about  sharpening  the  wits  of  society.  He 
stirs  the  blood  of  cupidity  and  then  teaches  man  a  les 
son,  enforcingthe  moral  that  the  glittering  is  not  always 
the  gold.  He  is  an  orator  and  his  subject  is  horse. 
Through  the  horse  he  reads  human  nature.  He  is  self- 
confident,  never  tells  too  long  a  story,  and  people  like 
to  hear  him  talk.  Ladies  sometimes  sniff  at  him  and 
say  that  he  is  horsey,  but  when  they  have  been  suffic 
iently  bored  bv  the  empty  prattle  of  the  refined  dolt, 
they  return  to  the  horseman  to  be  entertained.  Bob," 


142 

he  added,  after  going  to  the  fire-place  to  spit,  and 
returning  to  put  his  feet  upon  the  table,  "there  is  one 
type  of  man  that  I  should  like  to  see  hanged — the 
negro-trader." 

"Nearly  always  a  brute,"  Young  Master  replied. 

"Always,  Bob.  And  society,  even  in  this  State, 
holds  him  in  contempt,  yet  recognizes  the  justice,  or  I 
should  say,  fails  to  recognize  the  injustice  of  the  insti 
tution  he  serves.  D —  me  if  it  ain't  riling!"  he  cried, 
striking  the  table  with  his  heel.  Master  moved  the  ink 
stand  till  further  away  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 
Mr.  Clem  continued:  "The  South  is  an  exotic,  living 
under  glass.  But  one  day  the  glass  will  be  smashed 
and  the  cold  air  will  blow  in.  What  could  be  more 
disease-breeding  than  our  present  state  of  affairs,  one 
end  of  the  republic  heating  with  degenerate  luxury, 
the  other  end  cool  with  self-reliant  industry?" 

"Uncle  Clem,  they  have  turned  you  into  a  Yankee," 
said  the  young  man. 

"By  the  hoofs,  they  have  opened  my  eyes  and  if  to 
see  is  to  be  a  Yankee,  then  I  am  one." 

"But  having  seen,  do  you  now  come  to  sow  eye- 
opening  seeds,  in  fact,  to  scatter  trouble?" 

"I've  got  as  much  right  in  this  State  as  any  man 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  143 

that  lives  in  it ;  I  carried  a  gun  into  Mexico  and  I  wear 
the  scar  of  a  leaden  missile." 

"No  one  questions  your  right,  and  I,  for  one,  am 
warm  in  welcome  of  you.  But  you  turned  your  back 
upon  Kentucky,  shifted  your  citizenship  to  another 
State." 

Mr.  Clem  jerked  his  feet  off  the  table,  went  to  the 
fire-place,  spat  out  his  tobacco,  and  began  to  walk  up 
and  down  the  room,  with  his  hands  behind  him  after 
the  manner  of  Old  Master. 

"Bob,"  he  said,  pointing  as  he  spoke,  "there,  at  the 
north  corner  of  the  lane,  \yhere  the  steps  go  over  the 
stone  fence,  I  stood  in  my  country's  uniform  and  told 
a  girl  good-bye.  She  clung  to  me  like  a  sweet  vine, 
and  with  trembling  ringers  I  loosened  the  tendrils  of 
her  love.  Behind  a  gallant  warrior  I  marched  into  the 
City  of  Mexico,  thrilled  not  with  the  victory,  but  with 
the  thought  that  my  face  should  soon  be  homeward 
set.  That  night  I  received  a  letter  telling  me  of  her 
perfidy.  She  did  not  write — my  brother's  hand  sent 
the  news.  I  couldn't  believe  it — in  my  breast  I  called 
him  a  liar.  But  I  came  home  with  a  quaking  heart,  to 
find  that  she  had  married  a  negro-trader.  And  then, 
in  taking  up  my  small  belongings  to  leave  the  State,  I 
swore  that  I  would  never  return  so  long  as  she  was  in 


144  ^Y  f  (TDfiG  MASTER 

it  alive.  Once  that  fellow  came  to  Illinois  to  catch  a 
run-away  slave.  He  caught  the  fugitive  at  a  town 
called  Princeton.  I  chanced  to  *be  there.  A  noble- 
hearted  man  named  Bryant,  brother  of  the  poet,  heard 
the  negro's  pitiful  story  and  then  turned  upon  the 
trader.  'Sir/  said  he,  'the  shadow  of  a  black  and 
outrageous  law  may  fall  upon  your  case,  but  humanity 
which  is  above  all  law,  cries  out  for  the  protection  of 
this  poor  creature.  Be  gone  from  here.' 

"  'Not  until  I  have  had  my  say,'  I  cried.  'Bring  a 
rope  and  I  will  hang  him.'  There  was  an  uneasy  stir 
among  the  men  assembled  in  the  little  court-room. 
The  trader  looked  at  me  sharply.  A  grim  smile  spread 
over  his  dastardly  face.  I  had  learned  more  than  I 
have  yet  told  you — He  held  a  mortgage  upon  the 
negroes  that  belonged  to  the  father  of  that  girl  and 
she  had  married  him  to  save  the  negroes,  to  keep  them 
from  being  taken  South  and  sold  to  the  heartless 
drivers.  This  she  had  written  and  given  to  a  friend  to 
send  to  me,  but  he  was  tardy  in  sending  it.  However, 
I  could  not  have  forgiven  her,  although  there  might 
have  been  some  truth  in  what  she  said  and  some  nobil 
ity  in  her  act.  The  fellow  leered  at  me,  and  turning  to 
the  justioe  of  the  peace,  said  to  him :  This  man  ought 
not  to  have  a  word  to  say.  He  hates  me  because  I  mar- 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  145 

ried  the  girl  he  loved.'  This  set  the  idlers  to  tittering1, 
and  I  got  out  of  the  court-room,  frothing  at  the 
mouth.  Under  protection  of  the  law,  the  rascal  was 
permitted  to  go  away  in  peace,  but  he  did  not  take  the 
negro,  not  then,  but  got  him  afterward.  Bob,  I'm 
strong  enough  to  confess  a  weakness,  and  the  man 
that  isn't,  isn't  game.  I'm  bold  enough  to  defend  a 
prejudice,  for  prejudices  are  sometimes  our  dearest 
inheritance." 

He  resumed  his  walk,  went  to  the  door,  halted  and 
came  back  to  the  table.  "I  said  that  I  would  never 
come  back  to  the  State  so  long  as  that  woman  was  in 
it  alive,  and  I  didn't.  She  died  less  than  a  year  ago, 
and  her  husband  is  now  a  planter  in  Mississippi,  and 
about  all  I  ask  of  the  Lord"  is  that  I  may  some  time 
meet  him — accidentally."  He  looked  at  his  watch. 
"It's  getting  late  and  I  guess  you  boys  are  sleepy. 
Believe  I'll  take  another  look  at  that  horse  and  go  to 
bed.  Good  night." 

I  went  to  bed,  leaving  master  in  his  chair,  settled  in 

a  deep  consideration.    The  candle-wick  fell  into  the 

socket,  but  the  fire-light  showed  him  still  musing,  his 

'eyes  wide  open  but  dreaming.    I  fell  asleep  and  awoke 

in  tbe  dark,  aroused  by  the  sound  of  the  young  man's 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 


voice.  He  was  making  a  speech,  had  sat  with  it  run 
ning  in  his  mind  while  the  words  of  Mr.  Clem  had 
fallen  upon  me  like  burning  coals. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

"Don\  flake  a  fire,"  were  the  first  words  I  heard  at 
morning.  I  looked  up  and  found  the  orator  in  bed, 
propped  upon  his  elbow.  He  looked  at  me — his  eyes 
were  always  fascinating — and  I  waited  to  attend  upon 
his  bidding. 

"Do  you  know  that  what  uncle  said  last 
night  didn't  s-inke  me  very  hard  until  just  a  few 
moments  ago?"  said  he.  "A  stream  of  nonsense  was 
rippling  through  my  mind  at  the  time  and  I  was  too 
much  taken  up  with  it  to  feel  what  he  said,  but  it  hit 
me  hard  just  now.  lie  has  seen  trouble  and  I  honor 
him  for  it.  Know  what  I  would  have  done?  Shot  that 
fellow.  If  we  are  taught  to  die  for  love  we  ought  to 
kill  for  it."  He  lay  back  upon  his  pillow  and  after  a 
moment's  reflection,  broku  into  a  tittering  laugh. 

"I  wonder,"  said  he,  "if  Uncle  Clem  would  cheat  that 
preacher.  But  of  course  he  would,  since  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  cheating  in  a  horse  trade — By  a  self- 
soothing  turn  of  argument  his  conscience  legitimizes 
any  advantage  he  may  take  over  the  judgment  of  his 

d47) 


148  MY  YOUNG   MASTEB 

adversary.  We'll  go  out  and  see  the  preacher  detend 
himself." 

In  the  trade  that  followed,  if  indeed  one  did  take 
place,  the  preacher  may  have  lost  his  eye-teeth  for 
ought  I  know.  I  went  down  stairs  that  morning  with 
full  determination  to  see  the  contest,  but  upon  reach 
ing  the  hall-way,  a  loud  voice,  in  the  dining  room,  told 
that  something  of  graver  moment  had  befallen — the 
return  of  Dr.  Bates.  Old  Master  sat  looking  at  him, 
and  the  expression  on  his  face  was  not  one  to  bespeak 
a  pleasurable  emotion.  The  doctor  glanced  up  as  my 
Young  Master  entered,  and  with  a  broad  smile  which  I 
could  see  was  pumped  up  with  great  effort,  he  got  out 
of  his  chair  to  shake  hands.  Bob  took  his  hand, 
though  not  with  any  pretense  of  welcome,  said  that  he 
was  surprised  at  his  quick  return,  and  sat  down  with^ 
out  another  word,  the  doctor  evidently  waiting  for  him 
to  say  something  more.  But  he  waited  in  vain,  for  the 
young  man  sat  gazing  hard  at  his  plate,  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets. 

"I  am  glad  to  find  the  weather  so  delightful,"  said 
the  doctor.  I  have  just  come  from  a  place  where 
icicles  were  hanging  from  the  eaves." 

"I  should  think  that  you  would  be  likely  to  find 
places  too  warm,"  Bob  spoke  up. 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

The  doctor  glanced  at  him  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
eye.  "Well,  that  depends,"  he  replied,  casting  about 
for  something  else  to  say  but  not  finding  it  upon 
demand.  "Some  of  us  are  influenced  by  one  thing  and 
some  by  another,"  he  added,  still  skirmishing.  "But 
youth  is  often  too  much  lacking  in  judgment  to  esti 
mate  its  surroundings — the  dangers  that  lie  about,  I 
might  say.  Talk  comes  early  but  sense  follows  very 
slowly  along."  He  had  evidently  found  something  to 
please  him  for  he  smiled  at  Old  Master,  who,  without 
a  word,  still  sat  looking  at  him.  "Yes,"  said  Young 
Master,  "sense  not  beingso  light  of  foot  has  a  hard  time 
trying  to  overtake  wordiness  and  there  are  cases  where 
it  does  not  succeed." 

The  doctor  gave  Bob  a  mere  glance  and  addressed 
himself  to  Old  Master.  "Since  I  have  been  traveling 
about,"  said  he,  "and  particularly  when  I  have  gone 
East,  I  have  been  compelled  to  listen  to  sharp  criti 
cisms  passed  upon  Southern  society.  They  say  our 
life  is  most  unnatural,  our  society,  feverish;  and  they 
laugh  at  our  intellectual  intercourse — say  that  our  con 
versation  is  more  observant  of  color  than  of  sense,  and 
that  our  young  men  are  taught  to  stride  on  sopho- 
raoric  stilts.  Of  course  I  was  strong  in  my  defense, 
but  I  couldn't  hide  an  inward  acknowledgement  of  a 


160  MY  YOTTNG  MASTER 

part  of  these  strictures.  Our  young  men  do  attempt 
to  stand  off  the  ground  when  they  talk." 

"It  makes  no  difference  to  me  what  an  envious  per 
son  may  find  fit  to  say,"  Old  Master  replied.  "We  of 
the  South  have  our  way  of  thinking  and  talking  and 
are  willing  to  grant  that  privilege  to  other  men.  Why 
the  deuce  don't  these  people  come  on  to  breakfast?" 

From  the  rear  veranda  came  the  voices  of  Old 
Miss,  Mr.  Clem  and  the  preacher.  "Dan,"  Old  Mas 
ter  commanded,  "tell  them  to  come  on  here/' 

I  hastened  away,  glancing  back  to  see  Young  Mas 
ter  boring  the  doctor  with  a  look.  Mr.  Clem  and  the 
preacher  were  warm  in  an  argument  and  Old  Miss  was 
standing  near,  supporting  the  views  of  the  preacher, 
but  was,  I  could  see,  persistent  with  suggesting  that 
they  give  over  the  contest  and  go  to  breakfast.  And 
when  I  stepped  forward  with  the  announcement  that 
Old  Master  had  sent  for  them,  Mr.  Clem  said,  "All 
right,  soon  as  I  blow  out  my  tobacco,"  and  ducking 
his  head  over  the  "banister,"  he  snorted  out  his  quid 
and  swore  that  he  was  as  hungry  as  either  of  the 
she -bears  that  ate  up  the  forty  children.  The 
minister  would  have  stayed  to  rebuke  him  for  this 
irreverence,  but  being  himself  pinched  by  appetite, 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  151 

gave  him  merely  a  look  of  reproof  and  struck  a  crot  for 
the  breakfast  table. 

The  doctor  had  met  Old  Miss  and  the  two  men 
earlier  in  the  morning.  He  smiled  at  Old  Miss, 
nodded  at  the  preacher  and  addressing  Mr.  Clem,  said 
that  he  had  ever  wanted  to  meet  him.  Mr.  Clem  made 
no  reply  until  he  had  spread  a  napkin  upon  his  knees, 
and  then  he  said:  "Well,  sir,  you  see  me  now,  not 
quite  as  good  a  man  as  I  have  been,  perhaps,  but  pretty 
spry  and  ready  to  whet  the  edge  of  my  judgment 
against  every  gritty  substance  I  come  across.  What 
do  you  know  about  a  horse,  sir?" 

"Not  a  great  deal,  although  I  have  owned  several 
racers,"  the  doctor  answered.  Mr.  Clem  looked  at 
him,  moving  back  a  little  so  that  he  could  measure  him 
from  head  to  foot.  And  when  the  survey  was  com 
pleted  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  surveyor,  he  blurted 
forth  his  estimate:  "The  case  of  a  man  who  hasn't 
improved  his  time  very  much,  I  reckon.  But  you  like 
a  good  horse,  pretty  well,  I  take  it." 

"Well,  I  can't  say  that  I'm  more  interested  in  a 
horse  than  in  anything  else." 

"You  can't?  Well,  sir,  I  don't  want  to  throw  you 
off  hard  enough  to  bruise  you,  but  I  don't  reckon  you 
and  I  can  trot  together.  Good-bye." 


J52  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

"Oh,  you  are  not  going  away,  are  you?"  the  doctor 
asked.  Everyone  looked  up,  even  the  preacher,  who 
had  been  exceedingly  busy. 

"No;"  said  Mr.  Clem,  "that  is,  I'm  not  going  to 
leave  here  just  now.  But  as  I  have  decided  not  to  trot 
with  you,  I'm  gone,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned."  And 
with  that  he  turned  from  the  doctor  and  I  am  almost 
positive  that  not  within  my  hearing  did  he  ever  give 
him  another  word.  It  could  not  have  been  that  the 
doctor's  indifference  toward  the  horse  was  the  real 
cause  of  Mr.  Clem's  contempt;  I  am  of  the  opinion  that 
the  old  fellow  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  like  him 
and  to  tell  him  so  should  opportunity  offer,  and  then 
brought  forward  the  horse  as  a  pretext.  I  have  often 
speculated  over  what  might  have  been  the  result,  had 
the  doctor  professed  an  absorbing  fondness  for  the 
horse.  I  imagine,  though,  that  Mr.  Clem  would  have 
tried  one  thing  after  another  until  he  had  found  a  vital 
objection  to  the  man,  for  as  I  say,  he  was  resolved  not 
to  like  him,  and  I  remember  that  on  this  very  morning, 
after  I  had  followed  my  master  to  his  room,  Mr.  Clem 
came  in  with  an  oath  directed  at  the  doctor. 

"I  don't  understand  how  you  get  along  with  him  at 
all,  Bob,"  said  he. 

"I  don't,"  my  young  master  replied,  turning  slowly 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

die  leaves  of  his  sheep-bound  book.  "We  have  come 
near  having  trouble,  and,  when  we  do,  it  will  be  red 
trouble,  I  tell  you.  He's  got  some  sort  of  a  hold  on 
father,  something  other  than  an  interest  in  the  estate. 
I  have  t»o  idea  what  it  is,  but  I  know  it's  something. 
However,  I  don't  believe  that  the  old  gentleman  will 
put  up  \vith  him  much  longer." 

"By  the  flint-hoofs,  I  wouldn't  stand  him  a  minute," 
Mr.  Clem  swore.  And  then  looking  at  me  he  asked 
my  opinion  of  the  man.  I  looked  at  master. 

"Tell  him,"  said  he. 

"Exactly  what  I  think,  Mars.  Bob?" 

"Yes,  say  what  you  please." 

This  was  indeed  a  rare  occasion.  I  was  to  have  an 
unfettered  say — was  to  talk  as  a  man.  The  image  of 
the  doctor  arose  before  me;  I  saw  his  hateful  grin,  his 
eyes  full  of  evil  and  deceit — and  the  insults  that  he  had 
put  upon  me  freshened  in  my  mind.  Something  in 
my  manner  must  have  foretold  the  temper  of  my 
speech,  for  they  looked  at  me  with  an  interest  that 
never  before  had  I  beheld  in  an  eye  bent  upon  me. 
"Speak  out!"  Bob  cried,  and  I  found  my  tongue  and 
found  it  hot: 

"I  hate  him  deeper  than  any  man  was  ever 
bated  1"  I  almost  shouted,  for  my  first  free  speeds 


154  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

rose  high.  "He  has  done  all  he  could  to  make  my  life 
miserable.  It  burnt  his  skin  to  see  that  I  was  not  sent 
to  the  corn-field — bled  him  to  know  that  I  could  be 
fitted  for  something  better;  and  his  enmity  passes 
through  me  and  touches  my  master.  If  I  could  choke 
his  tongue  out  and  see  it  covered  with  the  vilest  dust 
— if  I  could  see  his  eyes  mashed  into  the  ground — " 
I  hesitated.  The  flight  of  freedom  held  a  threat  to  be 
too  wild,  and  love  for  the  man  who  sat  staring  at  me 
told  me  to  drive  it  back  to  mean  and  humble  earth. 

"Go  ahead,"  Mr.  Clem  cried,  but  master  was  silent, 
looking  down.  "Gentlemen,  I  am  a  slave  and  you  are 
American  citizens,"  said  I.  "For  me,  there  are  no 
privileges  except  those  granted  by  individual  kindness. 
The  law  which  I  have  studied  page  by  page  with  my 
Master,  scarcely  touches  me,  except  so  far  as  I  am  a 
piece  of  property.  If  I  run  away,  the  law  that  I  have 
studied  will  follow  me  and  bring  me  back  with  hand 
cuffs  on  my  wrists.  If  my  master  chooses,  he  can  put 
me  on  the  auctioneer's  block  and  sell  me.  I — " 

"Don't,  Dan,"  Master  pleaded,  lifting  his  hand. 
"Don't  draw  such  a  picture  as  that.  You  are  better 
off  than  many  a  white  man;  you  can  think,  you  have 
been  taught  to  reason;  and  yon  know  that  I  would 
rather  starve  than  to  sell  you.  I  am  not  responsible 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  155 

for  the  melancholy  fact  that  you  are  a  slave.    You — " 

"Who  is?"  I  broke  in. 

"God,"  he  answered. 

"Oh,  H— !"  Mr.  Clem  shouted,  leaping  off  the  floor. 
"Bob,  I  think  a  great  deal  of  you,  would  do  anything 
for  you — fight  for  you — but  let  me  beg  of  you  never 
again  to  give  echo  to  that  sounding  rot.  The  greedcant 
of  a  pandering  pulpit  gives  us  enough  of  such  answers 
to  flatter  the  soul.  Bob,"  he  said,  stepping  forward  and 
laying  a  hand'  on  Master's  shoulder,  "look  at  me.  You 
have  a  heart,"  he  went  on,  looking  into  the  young 
man's  eyes.  "The  God  you  say  made  this  boy  a  slave, 
made  you  an  uncommon  man.  Even  as  young  as  you 
are,  you  have  the  brains  almost  of  a  philosopher — sure 
ly  the  power  and  the  expression  of  an  orator.  You  are 
going  to  make  a  deep  mark  on  the  page  of  your 
country's  history.  I  believe  it,  I  swear  I  do.  Then, 
why  do  you  care  to  own  a  man?  Bob,  set  this  boy 
free." 

Master  got  out  of  his  chair  and  went  to  the  window 
before  a  word  of  reply  came  from  him ;  he  looked  out 
upon  the  broad  spread  of  green  sward,  flooded  with 
sun-light,  he  turned  back  toward  his  uncle  and  then 
he  said:  "I  can't.  I  want  him,  and  he  must  stay  with 
me.  I  don't  want  him  so  much  as  a  servant  as  I  do  as 


19ft  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

a  companion.  Other  men  may  be  liars,  but  he  tells  me 
the  truth.  My  thoughts  are  his  and  I  hope  that  his 
are  mine.  At  midnight,  when  the  world  is  still  and  my 
mind  is  in  an  uproar,  I  do  not  struggle  alone,  but 
awake  him  and  he  steps  gladly  into  the  whirl-wind. 
Uncle  Clem,  I  have  a  real  affection  for  him,  so  strong 
that  it  is  selfish.  If  I  should  set  him  free,  he  couldn't 
stay  here,  and  besides,  not  yet  being  of  age,  I  cannot 
give  him  freedom." 

"An  argument,"  said  a  voice  at  the  door,  and  look 
ing  up,  we  saw  the  doctor  stand  there.  No  one  spoke 
a  word  bidding  him  to  enter,  but  he  stepped  into  the 
room.  "Well,"  said  Mr.  Clem,  speaking  to  Master, 
"I  must  go." 

"Won't  you  stay  longer,  Uncle?" 

"No,  I've  got  to  go  down  the  creek  and  kill  a 
snake." 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  said  master.  "Come  with  us, 
Dan." 

"May  I  have  a  few  moments  with  this  boy?"  the 
doctor  asked,  looking  at  Master  and  then  leering  at 
me. 

Mr.  Clem  had  reached  the  door  but  he  turned  back. 
Master  wanted  to  know  of  the  doctor  what  business  he 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  l& 

could  have  with  me,  whereupon  he  said:  "Oh,  just  a 
little  private  matter." 

''But,  sir,  Dan  keeps  none  of  his  affairs  private  from 
me." 

"Indeed!    A  very  close  relationship,  I  must  say." 

"Must  you?  I  didn't  know  that  you  felt  an  obliga 
tion." 

"An  obligation?    What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Oh,  you  said  you  must  say,  and  must  moves  us  to 
discharge  an  obligation. 

"If  a  barber  were  as  much  given  to  the  splitting  of 
hairs,  we'd  never  be  more  than  half  shaved/' 

"And  if  the  instinct  of  the  wolf  prompted  bristles  to 
grow  continuously,  and  if  no  barber  cut  them  off,  I 
could  pick  out  a  man  whose  beard  would  soon  drag 
the  ground." 

Mr.  Clem  laid  his  hands  upon  the  door-facing  and 
snorted.  "What  ails  you,  sir?"  the  doctor  asked,  turn 
ing  toward  him,  and  Mr.  Clem,  without  looking  round, 
said :  "Bob,  they've  got  a  fish  over  in  Illinois  they  call 
the  doctor.  Hook  one  of  them  and  you  think  you've 
got  something,  but  pull  him  out  and  you  find  he's  all 
bill.  Come  on  and  let's  go  after  that  snake." 

We  strode  away  without  another  word,  the  doctor 
tramping  hard  down  the  stairs  just  behind  me.  He  fol- 


158  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

lowed  us  to  the  yard,  and  seeing  Old  Master  standing 
near  the  garden  gate,  sheered  off  from  our  course. 
We  strolled  along  the  grass-fringed  margin  of  the 
creek,  and  when  we  came  to  the  rock  whereon  I  had 
stood,  listening  to  Mr.  Clem's  persuasive  tongue,  urg 
ing  me  to  run  away,  the  kindness  and  the  life-long 
protection  of  my  Master  arose  and  smote  me,  for  on 
that  rock  I  had  almost  rebelled  against  him.  I  did  not 
want  to  stop  when  the  others  halted,  but  Mr.  Clem 
called  me  back.  "Bob,"  said  he,  "I  didn't  always 
know  the  feeling  you  have  for  Dan,  and  it  was  here, 
not  long  ago,  that  I  told  him  to  run  away — offered  to 
furnish  him  money;  but  with  a  fidelity  that  I  had  for 
gotten  existed  among  men,  he  refused." 

Bob  turned  his  face  from  us,  but  I  saw  his  neck 
stiffen  with  resentment.  There  was  something  noble 
in  his  aspect,  his  head  high,  his  hat  off;  and  his  hair, 
lying  in  waves,  looked  like  the  leaves  of  a  wreath.  But 
in  a  moment  this  was  all  gone  and  he  looked  as  if  a 
grief  had  fallen  upon  him.  "Uncle  Clem,"  said  he, 
turning  slowly  toward  the  old  man,  "I  wish  you 
wouldn't  give  advice  against  the  interest  of  one  who  is 
very  near  to  me.  If  he  were  to  run  away,  he  would 
lose  confidence  in  himself  and  his  memory  of  the  sunny 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  159 

days  along  this  stream  would  but  serve  as  a  reproach 
to  him." 

"My  dear  boy,"  Mr.  Clem  replied,  "if  I  had  intended 
to  give  him  further  advice  along-  the  same  line,  I  would 
not  have  mentioned  it  to  you — would  not  have  hinted 
that  I  had  said  anything.  So,  now,  as  far  as  that  is 
concerned,  you  may  rest  at  ease." 

"All  right,  we'll  say  nothing  more  about  it.  Uncle 
Clem,  do  you  think  that  I'm  stilted  in  my  talk?" 

"Why,  not  any  more  so  than  the  average  boy  in  this 
part  of  the  country.  You  know  the  Kentuckian  is 
taught  to  talk  with  a  flourish ;  it  is  in  keeping  with  the 
pretense  of  his  surroundings ;  he  must  be  gallant  with 
woman  and  lordly  with  man.  No,  you  are  not  partic 
ularly  stilted,  but  there  is  one  branch  of  information 
that  you  are  stubbornly  overlooking — the  horse.  You 
have  studied  the  orator,  but  I  want  to  tell  you  that  the 
horse  has  done  quite  as  much  to  make  Kentucky 
known  as  the  orator.  After  all,  oratory  is  nothing  but 
talk,  while  there's  action  in  a  horse.  And,  by  the  way, 
who's  that  riding  along  the  pike?  Too  far  off  or  I'd 
yell  at  him.  Good  horse;  no,  little  lame  in  the  left 
hind  foot.  See,  he  don't  move  evenly." 

"I  can't  tell  from  here,"  said  master. 

"Ah,  hah,  and  that  goes  to  prove  what  I  say,  that 


160  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

you  haven't  given  enough  study  to  that  important  sub 
ject.  It  isn't  right  for  a  man  to  cultivate  one  lobe  of 
his  mind  and  neglect  the  other.  Man's  mind,  you 
know,  has  two  lobes — one  embracing  the  horse,  and 
the  other  covering  the  human  family  and  other  little 
things.  I  wonder  how  much  longer  things  are  going 
to  be  as  dull  as  they  are  now.  Why,  out  in  Illinois  we 
had  something  every  day  to  interest  us,  up  hill  and 
down,  but  here  everything  is  on  a  dead  level.  There's 
not  enough  ginger  in  the  air." 

"But  it's  full  of  poetry,  Uncle  Clem." 

"Full  of  poetry?  Well,  maybe  it  is,  but  you  have  t<s 
listen  too  close  to  hear  it." 

"Ah,  but  the  sweetest  communications  come  in  a 
whisper." 

"By  the  hoofs,  the  boy's  in  love.  Now,  you  take  a 
horseman's  advice  and  keep  out  of  it.  It's  a  jolt,  leav 
ing  you  for  a  time  to  wonder  whether  you're  hurt  or 
net,  and  after  a  while  you  find  that  you  are.  Yonder 
come  the  General  and  that  doctor.  Let's  shew  ofl 
thii  way  and  go  back  to  the  home?* 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

How  the  coming  of  one  person  can  change  an 
atmosphere !  At  one  moment  the  breath  we  draw  is  a 
new  and  invigorating  hope,  the  next  instant  the  air  is 
parched  and  dead — we  see  an  evil  eye,  a  hated  face. 
My  education  was  not  systematic;  I  read  as  a  hungry 
man  eats;  and,  as  my  learning  progressed,  I  began  to 
give  myself  up  to  a  speculation  upon  the  sadness  of  my 
lot  in  life,  my  eyes  becoming  wider  and  wider  opened 
to  the  fact  that  knowledge  could  avail  me  nothing, 
could  but  throw  a  lime-light  upon  my  bondage  and 
make  it  ghastly;  but  when  the  doctor  returned  I 
looked  back  at  my  state  of  happiness  during  his 
absence.  It  was  true  that  Old  Miss  gave  over  no 
opportunity  to  humiliate  me,  but  I  had  grown  so 
accustomed  to  this  that  no  longer  did  it  sting  me — I 
put  it  down  as  the  soured  whim  of  an  old  woman.  But 
the  sight  of  the  doctor,  the  fact  that  he  and  I  were 
under  the  same  roof,  was  iced  water  constantly  drip 
ping  upon  my  head.  I  was  not  physically  afraid  of 
him;  gladly  would  I  have  fought  him;  in  a  fight  I 

(161) 


162  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

could  have  cut  his  throat  and  stood  looking  calmly 
upon  his  blood,  and  thousands  of  times  had  I  wished 
that  I  were  a  white  man,  that  I  might  challenge  him; 
but  morally  I  stood  in  horror  of  him.  I  avoided  him, 
slinking  about  like  a  thief;  I  hid  myself  behind  stone 
walls  and  in  thickets  until  he  had  passed,  but  at  the 
table  I  was  compelled  to  look  upon  him  and  to  hear 
his  voice.  Once  when  he  spoke  to  me  my  Young  Mas 
ter  saw  me  tremble  and  when  we  had  gone  forth 
together,  the  young  man  said  to  me:  "Dan,  don't 
stand  behind  my  chair  at  meal  time  any  more.  It's  a 
piece  of  nonsense  anyway,  a  notion  covered  with 
mold." 

I  thanked  him  and  told  him  that  I  would  not,  but  at 
supper  that  evening,  Old  Mistress  flouted  so  and  made 
such  a  fuss  at  my  absence  that  Master  came  to  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  and  called  me.  "It  won't  be  for  long,"  he 
said  as  I  came  down.  "I  don't  believe  that  fellow  can 
stay  here  much  longer." 

But  the  days  wore  along  and  he  continued  to 
remain,  and  though  I  was  skillful  in  my  avoidance  of 
him,  yet  he  sometimes  confronted  me  when  I  least 
expected  it.  One  afternoon,  during  the  wheat  harvest, 
I  was  sent  to  the  distillery  to  get  whisky  to  be  served  to 
the  hands.  Just  as  the  distiller  had  handed  me  the  full 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  163 

jug,  the  doctor  stepped  out  and  in  apparent  surprise 
asked  me  what  I  wanted  there.  I  told  him  that  Old 
Master  had  sent  me  for  whisky. 

"I  believe  you  are  lying,"  said  he,  "but  take  it  and 
go,  and  don't  fool  along  the  road,  either.  Do  you 
hear?" 

I  told  him  that  I  had  no  intention  of  fooling  along 
the  road.  "That  yellow  rascal  is  petted  until  his  fingers 
and  toes  stick  out,"  said  he  to  the  distiller.  "I  wanted 
to  take  him  and  make  something  of  him,  but  they 
wouldn't  let  me.  But  I'll  get  him  yet." 

"He'd  be  worth  fifteen  hundred  if  he  was  a  little 
pearter,"  said  the  distiller,  looking  at  me  as  I  moved 
off. 

"Yes,"  the  doctor  agreed,  "and  an  apple  tree  sprout 
well  laid  on  would  add  many  a  dollar  to  his  worth." 

I  walked  as  rapidly  as  I  could,  but  the  doctor  being 
on  horseback  soon  overtook  me.  I  wondered  what 
new  insult  was  fermenting  in  his  mind.  I  had  not  long 
to  wait.  "Boy,"  said  he,  riding  up,  "are  you  sure  you 
haven't  swigged  some  of  that  liquor?" 

"I  have  not  touched  it/'  I  answered  without  looking 
up. 

"Stop  a  minute,"  he  commanded  and  I  obeyed.    He 


MY  YOITNG   MASTER 

looked  up  and  down  the  road,  and  then  said:  "Take 
out  that  corn-cob  stopper  and  drink." 

"It  is  not  for  me,  sir,"  I  replied. 

"I  don't  give  a  d —  whom  it's  for;  you  drink  it." 

I  stood  near  a  fence  and  with  one  arm  resting  upon 
it  as  I  replied :  "You  want  me  to  get  back  drunk  to 
bring  disgrace  upon  my  Young  Master  and  myself." 

He  kicked  his  horse  and  rode  almost  upon  me.  His 
eyes  were  green  with  hate  and  had  he  thrust  forth  a 
forked  tongue  like  a  serpent,  I  could  not  have  felt  sur 
prise.  He  stood  in  his  stirrups  and  lifted  high  his 
riding  whip.  "You  yellow  ooze  of  the  devil,  I'll  make 
you  drink  that  liquor  or  I'll  slit  your  hide  until  it  won't 
hold  feathers."  His  lips  were  apart,  his  teeth  were  set 
and  his  brows  were  knit  with  the  force  that  he  sum 
moned  to  his  arm.  Within  a  second  this  stinging  blow 
must  fall,  but  I  commanded  him  in  so  sharp  a  tone  to 
hold  that  his  arm  came  down  slowly  and  his  whip  hung 
at  his  side.  "Do  you  threaten  me!"  he  hissed,  thrust 
ing  his  chin  forward.  Year  after  year  he  had  eluded 
the  notice  of  age,  had  escaped,  it  seemed  to  me,  with 
out  enumeration,  but  now  the  time  he  had  cheated 
came  full  upon  him,  wrinkling  his  face,  yellowing  his 
countenance  and  making  him  hideous.  He  was  so 
dose  upon  me,  leaning  forward  with  his  sharp  ehin 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  165 

pointed  at  my  heart,  that  I  could  smell  the  fumes  of 
brandy  on  his  breath.  He  gazed  hard,  trying,  I  could 

rt 

see,  to  hold  my  attention,  but  I  noticed  that  his  hands 
were  not  idle.  He  changed  his  whip  to  his  left  hand 
and  with  his  right  plucked  out  a  keen  knife.  I  was  in 
a  corner  of  the  fence  and  the  horse's  breast  was  almost 
against  me.  And  thus  he  was  poised  like  a  fierce  ani 
mal,  waiting  for  my  reply,  hoping  that  it  would  not  be 
one  of  submission.  I  was  not  frightened,  but  reason 
flew  through  my  mind  like  a  bird  caught  by  a  strong 
wind.  To  defend  myself  meant  the  gallows. 

"Doctor,"  said  I,  "you  have  no  cause  to  seek  my 
life.  You  are  a  white  man  and  I  am  what  you  are 
pleased  to  call  a  negro.  In  the  court-house  your  mere 
word  would  be  a  law  against  my  oath.  You  have 
every  moral  as  well  as,  at  present,  every  physical 
advantage.  You  are  a  man  of  education  and  are 
closely  connected  with  one  of  the  best  families  in  this 
proud  State,  and  now  what  prompts  you  to  tread  upon 
me?" 

My  coolness  drove  him  mad.  He  kicked  his  horse 
and  jammed  me  into  the  corner  of  the  fence.  For  a 
second  his  knife  gleamed  like  the  belly  of  a  snake 
circling  in  the  air.  I  threw  up  the  jug,  caught  the 
knife  and  the  broken  blade  fell  to  the  ground — I 


166  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

seized  the  horse  in  the  nostrils,  as  I  had  seen  Mr. 
Clem  grasp  "the  devil,"  wrenched  him  until  he  fell 
upon  his'knees,  caught  up  the  jug  which  I  had  let  fall 
at  my  feet,  threw  'it  over  into  the  soft  clover  and  with  a 
spring  followed  it.  The  enraged  man's  oaths  ripped 
like  a  saw  striking  a  knot. 

"I'll  get  you  yet,"  he  cried,  shaking  the  knife-handle 
at  me. 

"You  will  feel  better  when  you  are  sober,"  I  said, 
smiling  at  him.  I  could  have  sliced  his  heart  and 
therefore  I  smiled — at  the  happy  thought.  "And  I 
want  to  tell  you  one  thing.  I  may  be  hanged  one  mile 
from  the  court-house,  but  this  is  the  last  time  I  am 
going  to  run  from  you."  I  turned  to  go,  but  he  called 
me.  "You  have  threatened  me,"  he  said,  not  raging, 
but  with  more  of  quiet  than  I  could  have  expected, 
"and  on  my  part  it  would  be  justice  to  take  a  gun  and 
shoot  you,  but  if  you  will  agree  to  say  nothing  about 
this  affair  when  you  go  to  the  house,  I  will  swear 
never  again  to  molest  you.  The  truth  is  I've  been 
drinking  and  am  not  myself." 

"I  leaked  at  it  in  another  light,  sir.  I  thought  that 
the  drink  had  given  your  true  self  a  bold  develop 
ment" 

"God,  but  you  can  talk,  you  yellow — but  I  say.  Dan, 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  167 

I  mean  what  I  say.  Agree  not  to  mention  this  affair 
and  I'll  always  treat  you  civilly.  I've  had  enough  to 
spoil  the  temper  of  any  man  alive,  but  I'll  hold  it  down 
so  far  as  you  are  concerned.  What  do  you  say?" 

"I  agree,  sir." 

"All  right.  Now  give  me  a  drink  out  of  that  jug 
and  I'll  call  it  square." 

"No,  this  liquor  is  not  for  you;  it  is  for  the  harvest 
hands;  it  isn't  up  to  your  grade." 

"Consideration  or  impudence,  one  of  the  other — but 
I'll  let  it  pass.  All  right,  now,"  he  added,  tightening 
his  bridle-rein  to  ride  away,  "remember  your  part  of 
the  contract  and  I'll  remember  mine." 

Old  Jason,  at  the  head  of  the  men  in  the  field,  cen 
sured  me  for  passing  so  much  time  on  the  road,  and 
old  Steve,  humorous  rascal,  gave  a  broad  grin  as  he 
looked  upon  the  whisky  and  swore  that  he  didn't  think 
that  I  had  passed  anything  on  the  road;  that  every 
thing  had  passed  me.  Old  Master  came  walking  up  to 
the  clump  of  alder  bushes  under  which  a  number  of  the 
hands  had  gathered  to  "blow"  in  the  shade,  and  after 
making  a  pretense  of  drinking  with  them,  told  me  to 
walk  to  the  house  with  him.  With  what  envy  the 
black  men  regarded  me  as  I  strode  off  beside  the  man 
who  held  their  destiny  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand! 


168  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

Looking  back  I  could  see  many  a  dark  frown.  Among 
the  blacks  the  "yaller  man"  was  never  a  favorite.  An 
attempt  to  be  refined  and  especially  a  smattering  of 
learning  invoked  contempt  from  the  sturdy  yeoman  of 
the  negro  quarter. 

"They  are  not  so  mighty  fond  of  you,"  said  Old 
Master  as  we  walked  along.  His  old  eyes  had  caught 
the  expression  of  their  disfavor. 

"No,  sir,  and  I  am  sorry,  for  I  would  give  much 
for  their  good  opinion." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  my  boy.  It  is  a 
true  proof  of  a  gentlemanly  instinct.  The  coarse 
grained  man  holds  himself  above  the  opinion  of  those 
far  below  him,  but  a  gentleman  would  value  the  good 
will  of  a  dog.  By  the  way,  have  you  seen  the  doctor 
to-day?" 

"I  think,  sir,  that  I  saw  him  in  the  road  as  I  was 
coming  from  the  distillery." 

It  was  some  time  before  he  spoke  again,  walking 
along  with  his  gaze  bent  upon  the  ground.  "Dan" — > 
and  he  looked  up  at  me,  "do  you  remember  the  time 
you  threw  the  tumbler  on  his  head?" 

"As  well  as  if  it  were  but  an  hour  ago,"  I  answered. 

"If  you  had  seen  him  this  morning  you  would  have 
felt  like  striking  him  a  harder  blow,"  he  said.  "We 


MASTER  169 

had  a  quarrel  and  my  old  blood  was  so  stirred  that  I 
was  almost  tempted  to  cut  his  throat.  He  made  a 
demand  on  me  for  more  money  than  I  could  really 
afford  to  give — the  scoundrel,  I  have  given  him 
already  far  more  than  his  share — -and  was  insulting 
when  I  refused  him.  Your  Mistress  has  been  brought 
to  see  him  in  his  true  light 'and  I  have  her  consent  to 
drive  him  away  and  I'll  do  it.  He  calmed  down  and 
apologized,  but  I  told  him  that  he  must  leave  within  a 
day  or  two,  and  he'll  have  to.  I  can't  stand  him  any 
longer." 

"Master,  I  don't  see  how  -you  could  have  stood  him 
so  long." 

"It  was  to  keep  the  neighbors  from  talking,"  he 
replied.  "Differently  situated,  I  would  have  kicked 
him  into  the  road  long  ago.  He  is  the  strangest  man 
I  ever  met.  He's  bright,  and  at  times  he  appears  the 
perfect  gentleman  and  is  exceedingly  interesting,  but 
in  a  moment  his  nature  seems  changed.  We  were  at 
the  barn  this  morning  when  his  insulting  mood  came 
on,  and  I  looked  up  at  a  scythe  hanging  there  and  was 
sorely  tempted  to  mow  off  his  head.  But  that  would 
never  do." 

We  were  walking  along  a  fence  bordering  the  turn- 

^^ 

pike.    Someone  in  a  buggy  called  the  old  man  and  I 


170  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

went  onward  to  the  house,  with  a  regret  that  I  had 
been  so  long  away  from  my  law  book.  We  had  given 
to  our  room  the  name  of  office,  for  Young  Master  had 
already  begun  to  recite  his  lessons  to  a  retired  judge 
who  almost  daily  dismounted  from  his  horse  to  give 
us  the  benefit  of  his  learning.  In  the  office  I  found 
Bob  and  Mr.  Clem. 

"Why  don't  you  go  in  with  some  lawyer  in  town  and 
be  done  with  it?"  Mr.  Clern  was  saying  as  I  entered  the 
room.  "You  are  not  quite  old  enough  yet  to  reach  the 
bar,  but  you've  got  about  all  the  law  you  could  get  at 
school,  and  about  all  that  remains  now  is  to  pick  up  the 
details  of  practice." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Bob,  "but  when  a  young  man 
goes  into  an  old  lawyer's  office  he  is  expected  to  do  all 
the  work,  take  none  of  the  glory  and  receive  but  little 
of  the  pay.  We'll  hang  on  here  a  while  longer,  won't 
we,  Dan?"  He  looked  up  at  me  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,  sir;  and  when  we  go,  we'll  go  strong." 

"Dan  is  to  be  my  silent  partner,"  he  said,  nodding  at 
his  uncle. 

The  old  fellow  jerked  his  shoulders  as  he  replied: 
"Yes,  sir,  and  he'd  better  be  pretty  devilish  silent  at 
that,  I  tell  you.  The  leaves  from  so  many  abolition 
pamphlets  are  fluttering  in  the  air  that  anything  with 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  171 

the  appearance  of  granting  the  negro  more  of  equality 
with  the  white  man  will  be  resented  in  no  uncertain 
way.  But  I'm  glad  to  hear  that  Dan  is  to  be  your 
partner  and  I  advise  you  to  keep  it  strictly  to  your 
selves.  Heigh  ho."  He  leaned  back  with  a  stretch. 
"This  country  is  slower  than  tar  in  January.  Haven't 
seen  but  two  horses — horses  that  I'd  have,  you  under 
stand — go  over  the  pike  to-day.  And  that's  rather 
discouraging  for  a  man  who  insists  on  paying  his  way. 
Only  two  horses,  and  I  didn't  get  but  one  of  them." 
I  thought  to  ask  him  concerning  the  outcome  of  his 
contest  with  the  preacher,  but  he  continued  to  talk, 
and  I  never  thought  of  it  again.  Billows  came  to 
swallow  the  little  waves. 

"Yes,  sir,  only  two  horses  that  I  would  have,  and 
yet  this  is  the  State  of  Kentucky,  where  Clay  lived  and 
died.  Two  horses,  mind  you,  and  I  didn't  get  but  one 
of  them.  Fellow  didn't  want  to  swap ;  said  he  was  in 
a  hurry.  Might  as  well  have  said  that  he  dMn't  want 
to  live  because  he  was  in  a  hurry.  But  I 
got  him  to  stop,  and  then  I  brought  out  the 
bay  mare  that  I  got  the  other  day.  She  had 
her  Sunday  clothes  on  and  I  could  see  that  she  caught 
his  eye.  He  got  down  and  looked  at  her  feet  and  then 
gathered  up  the  skin  on  her  shoulders ;  said  he  thought 


172  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

it  was  a  little  too  tight.  I  told  him  that  there  wasn't 
anything  loose  about  her;  that  the  contract  only  called 
for  enough  skin  to  cover  her.  Well,  we  swapped,  and 
I  got  twenty-eight  dollars  to  boot,  all  he  had.  Would 
have  got  more,  but  he  didn't  have  it.  He  was  a  sad 
sort  of  fellow  and  I  didn't  want  to  take  advantage  of 
him,  without  giving  him  some  sort  of  a  show,  so  I  told 
him  that  he'd  better  not  take  my  word  for  anything. 
But  he  did." 

"Wasn't  your  mare  all  right?"  Bob  inquired. 

"Oh,  yes,  in  a  measure — bad  measure,  I  might  say. 
She  had  been  galloped  down-hill  on  the  pike  until  her 
shoulders  were  sorter  stove  up,  and  that's  what  made 
the  skin  too  tight,  and  her  wind  ain't  of  the  best,  but 
she's  good  enough  for  him.  I  took  his  horse  to  town 
— just  got  back — and  got  a  first  rate  price  for  him  on 
the  public  square." 

After  a  time  Mr.  Clem  lay  down  and  fell  asleep,  and 
I  took  up  a  book  to  keep  the  silent  company  of  Young 
Master,  and  I  read  page  after  page  without  being  able 
to  grasp  a  single  idea.  How  hopeless  everything  was 
determined  to  appear.  Abetted  by  the  kindest  of  men 
I  had  stolen  into  the  field  of  thought,  was  preparing  to 
become  an  out-lawed  advocate  of  the  law,  a  sneak- 
thief  behind  the  bar.  A  silent  partner,  indeed,  a  mys- 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  173 

terious  counsellor,  a  dumb  orator.  As  supper-time 
drew  near,  I  shuddered  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  the 
doctor's  eye.  Would  he  keep  his  contract  with  me? 
An  easy  matter  if  what  Old  Master  said  was  true. 
But  I  feared  that  the  old  gentleman  would  weaken 
when  the  time  came  for  him  to  be  strong.  And  should 
that  man  be  permitted  to  remain,  I  believed  that  he 
would  murder  me.  Ought  I  to  keep  my  word  with  a 
wolf?  I  asked  myself  time  and  again;  and  more  than 
once  I  was  on  the  point  of  breaking  it,  but  a  sense  of 
honor  held  me  back.  Why  should  I  feel  the  fetters  of 
honor  chaffing  me?  I  looked  up  to  meet  Young  Mas 
ter's  eyes.  Ah,  they,  so  full  of  soul  and  fire,  were  an 
inspiration  to  my  struggling"  manliness.  And  his  affec 
tion,  though  given  under  cover  of  dark  secrecy,  was 
the  most  blessed  reward  I  could  receive  on  earth. 

In  the  dining  room  I  waited,  standing  behind  Young 
Master's  chair,  looking  across  at  Mr.  Clem — waited  for 
the  doctor  but  he  did  not  come.  Every  sound  without 
gave  me  a  sickening  stir,  a  chicken  on  the  rear  ver 
anda,  a  dog  trotting  through  the  hall,  the  wind-stirred 
fox-horn  tapping  against  a  post  just  beyond  the  door. 
But  the  man  did  not  come. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

My  nerves  were  so  wrought  upon  by  the  continuous 
dread  of  the  doctor's  coming  that  by  the  time  the  meal 
was  over  I  was  almost  in  a  state  of  collapse.  Young 
Master's  eye  noticed  my  indisposition,  and  as  we 
turned  about  in  the  hall  to  mount  the  stairs,  he  said  to 
me: 

"Slip  out,  Dan,  and  take  a  walk  in  the  fresh  air, 
alone.  You  don't  look  well."  I  thanked  him  and 
halted,  and  he  passed  on  without  inquiring  into  the 
cause  of  what  he  must  have  seen  was  a  pitiable  dejec 
tion.  A  thousand  well-sifted  words  could  not  have 
shown  the  delicacy  of  his  nature  more  fittingly,  and  my 
gratitude  followed  him  step  by  step  as  he  went  up  the 
stairs ;  and  when  he  had  reached  the  landing  I  stole  out 
of  the  house. 

The  brown  veil  of  dusk  lay  upon  the  land, 
but  in  a  hill-side  thicket  far  away  a  light  was 
shimmering  to  illumine  the  early  evening  festival  of 
the  gray  fox — the  moon  was  coming  up.  The  air  was 
still  and  soft,  but  heavy  with  the  sappy  scent  from  the 

(i74) 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  175 

damp  grass  land  down  the  creek.  On  the  comb  of  a 
cabin,  grotesquely  outlined  in  this  dun-colored  close  of 
day,  sat  a  negro  blowing  a  melancholy  reed,  and  high 
above  him  the  bull-bats  were  screaming.  In  the 
shrubbery  a  hord  of  negro  children  were  playing  a 
counting-out  game.  I  passed  the  cow-pens;  the 
women  were  there  and  I  heard  the  stream  of  milk 
spurting  hard  in  the  "piggin."  My  spirits  rose  out  of 
their  nervous  lassitude;  I  felt  a  strong  and  almost  unna 
tural  sense  of  exhilaration,  and  this  alarmed  me,  for 
we  are  sometimes  afraid  to  feel  an  unaccountable 
buoyancy  lest  it  may  foretell  a  coming  fall.  I  have 
known  Christians  who  had  prayed  for  sanctity  in  the 
sight  of  the  Lord,  to  tremble  at  happiness,  afraid  that 
it  might  be  a  trap  set  by  the  devil.  I  skirted  the  shore 
of  the  creek,  crossed  the  meadow,  passed  through  the 
woods,  entered  the  grassy  lane  and  stood  there  with 
my  arms  on  the  fence,  looking  at  the  full  moon,  now 
high  above  the  trees.  And  I  thought  that  the  foxes 
must  have  given  over  their  dancing  to  scatter  about 
for  a  night  of  mischievous  prowling.  I  was  on  a  knoll, 
and  turning  about  I  could  see  the  lights  in  the  cabins 
and  th«  great  house,  a  hen  and  her  chickens  squatted 
upon  the  ground,  I  fancied.  The  strongest  light  came 
from  my  Young  Master's  room,  and  in  my  mind  I 


176  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

could  see  him  sitting  at  the  table  with  his  eyes  fastened 
upon  his  sheep-bound  book.  And  the  self-reproach 
of  an  ambitious  thought  that  I  was  not  keeping  up 
with  him  started  me  homeward  at  a  bound.  But  I  had 
not  gone  far  before  I  was  stopped  by  a  voice.  A  man 
stepped  from  the  corner  of  the  zig-zag  fence.  "Hold 
on!"  he  said,  and  the  doctor  stood  before  me.  The 
moon  was  on  his  face  and  in  the  coarse  lines  that 
traced  his  countenance  the  devil's  mockery  was 
legible. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked,  standing  with  his 
hands  behind  him. 

"Home,"  I  answered. 

"Home!"  he  repeated,  and  vitriol  was  in  his  voice. 
"Is  there  a  home  for  everyone  but  me?"  He  threw  his 
head  back  as  if  motioning  toward  the  house.  "Can 
you  go  back  there  and  sleep  on  a  bed  when  I  am  told 
never  to  cross  that  threshold  again?  Can  you?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  doctor?" 

"I  have  been  driven  away  this  night.  The  old  man 
kas  turned  me  out." 

"But  am  I  to  blame?  I  am  the  humblest  member 
of  that  household." 

He  did  not  change  his  attitude,  but  I  thought  that  I 
saw  his  bosom  swelling.  "The  humblest  because  you 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  177 

are  the  lowest  down,  but  a  snake  is  low  down,"  he  said, 
thrusting  his  chin  toward  me.  "Look  here,  spawn. 
The  first  step  you  took  put  you  in  my  way.  Do  you 
hear  me?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  I  am  much  surprised  to  hear  you  say 
it.  I  didn't  think  you  would  acknowledge  that  I  had 
so  much  force.  We  have  not  been  friends,  it  is  true, 
but  I  thought  that  my  position  kept  us  from  being 
enemies.  To  be  enemies  must  argue  a  certain  degree 
of  equality,  and  I  have  never  presumed  upon  that. 
You  may  have  stooped.  And  now  let  me  beg  you 
to  straighten  up  and  forget  that  I  ever  existed." 

"I  will  forget  that  you  have  existed,  and  I  will 
straighten  up,  but  not  until  I  have  stooped  lower. 
Look  here.  I  hate  the  fool  boy  that  owns  you,  and  if 
I  could  kill  him  this  moment,  I  would.  I  am  getting 
old  and  there  is  nothing  left  for  me.  But  I  want 
revenge  and  I  am  going  to  have  it,  for  I  am  going  to 
be  sensible.  I  never  was  a  fool." 

"Doctor,  I  don't  understand  your  meaning." 

"You  are  duller  than  usual.  If  I  were  to  kill  your 
master  or  that  old  imbecile,  this  whole  county  would 
follow  me,  but  if  I  kill  a  yellow  dog,  they — "  He 
leered  at  me,  the  moon  full  on  his  face.  A  chill  seized 


178  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

my  legs  and  ran  to  the  top  of  my  head  and  the  roots 
of  my  hair  felt  cold. 

"You  mean  that  you  will  kill  me?" 

"That's  what  I  mean.  They  drove  me  to  brandy  and 
brandy  has  pointed  you  out." 

I  was  perfectly  calm;  the  chill  had  left  me.  "Will 
you  please  let  me  pass?"  I  asked;  and  he  stepped  back, 
still  with  his  hands  behind  him.  "No,"  he  said. 

"Have  you  forgotten  our  contract?" 

"You  are  a  fool  if  you  put  faith  in  it.  You  are  not 
negro  enough  to  be  put  by  with  a  kick.  You  are  white 
man  enough  to  be  killed.  And  when  they  find  you  in 
the  morning  they  will  think  that  your  little  learning 
drove  you  mad." 

This  startled  me.  I  believed  that  they  would  think 
so,  if  they  should  find  me  dead,  but  no  obedience  to  a 
social  law  and  surely  no  regard  for  the  statutes  could 
force  me  to  submit  quietly  to  the  bloody  purpose  of 
this  raving  man. 

"Doctor,  I  have  run  from  you  for  the  last  time.  Get 
out  of  my  way!"  I  stepped  aside,  but  he  moved 
toward  me.  Now  his  hands  were  in  front  of  him  and 
I  saw  a  knife.  I  had  nothing.  I  could  have  turned 
and  run  away ;  I  could  have  leaped  over  the  fence,  but 
hot  bloed  was  coursing  where  the  chill  had  crept. 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  179 

"I  am  going  home,"  said  I,  "and  I  am  going  down 
this  lane." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  with  a  leap  and  a  strike  he 
was  upon  me.  I  caught  the  wrist  of  his  right  arm;  I 
threw  my  left  arm  about  him.  I  thought  that  I  heard 
his  bones  cracking  and  it  gave  me  a  thrill  of  mad 
delight.  I  did  not  strive  to  get  his  knife.  I  bent  his 
head  down  till  his  cry  was  but  a  mutter;  his  right  hand 
was  crushed  against  his  bosom — and  I  threw  him  upon 
the  ground.  He  struggled,  with  one  faint  cry,  for  his 
face  was  in  the  grass,  and  I  put  my  foot  on  his  back 
to  hold  him  down,  to  complete  my  victory  over  him. 
And  I  am  free  to  confess  that  my  soul  was  full  of  a  joy 
that  almost  burnt  me,  it  was  so  hot.  Many  a  time  had 
he  stood  with  his  foot  upon  my  trembling  heart,  and 
the  memory  of  those  long  years  of  humiliation  swept 
over  me  and  I  lifted  my  hands  and  cried  aloud  to  the 
God  of  vengeance.  I  looked  down  at  my  foe  under  my 
foot.  And  now  he  was  so  mean  and  shrunken  that  my 
heart  flinched  with  a  pity  that  pricked  it.  I  lifted  my 
foot  with  a  quick  jerk  lest  another  memory  might 
press  it  down  the  harder,  and  stood  waiting  for  him  to 
get  up.  He  did  not  move.  "Get  up,"  I  said,  taking 
him  by  the  shoulder.  But  he  made  no  effort.  Then  I 
turned  him  upon  his  back  and  the  mo©n!ight  fell  upon 


180  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

his  blood,  and  horrified,  I  looked  at  him,  hits  eyes 
open,  his  teeth  hard  set  with  grass  between  them.  His 
right  hand  was  still  upon  his  left  breast,  clutching  the 
knife,  and  its  blade  was  buried  in  his  heart. 

I  dropped  upon  my  knees,  and  gazed  at 
him,  now  so  old  and  wrinkled.  I  leaped  t« 
my  feet  and  the  air  whistled  in  my  ears  as 
I  bounded  down  the  lane.  I  was  struggling 
to  run  away  from  the  knowledge  that  I  had  killed  him, 
but  it  kept  up  with  me — showed  me  a  jail  and  a  gal 
lows.  I  halted  when  near  the  house,  put  my  arm 
about  a  tree  and  stood  there.  The  negro  cabins  were 
dark,  but  a  light  burned  in  Young  Master's  room.  The 
hour  was  late.  The  creek  was  louder  than  I  had  ever 
heard  it,  a  mockery,  not  a  music.  A  wind  had  sprung 
up  and  in  the  tree-tops  there  was  a  cold  and  rasping 
whisper.  I  was  striving  to  reach  a  decision  as  to  what 
course  I  should  pursue.  Undoubtedly  I  had  killed  the 
man  or  had  thrown  him  so  that  he  might  kill  himself, 
but  of  this  I  had  entertained  no  thought  at  the  time, 
my  aim  being  to  protect  myself  and  to  humiliate  him, 
to  show  him  that  I  could  turn  and  be  his  master.  But 
I  could  not  explain  this  to  the  authorities,  therefore  I 
held  no  notion  of  giving  myself  up.  To  run  away  were 
an  acknowledgement  of  guilt,  a  brkf  inquiry  and  the 


MY  Y&ttNG  MASTER  181 

rope.  I  could  make  a  flat  denial,  if  accused,  but  was 
afraid  that  I  could  not  summon  the  nerve  to  maintain 
it.  Still  something  must  be  done.  I  might  go  to  Mr. 
Clem,  tell  him  the  truth,  get  letters  from  him  to  per 
sons  in  the  real  land  of  the  free  and  with  his  financial 
aid  make  my  escape  out  of  the  country.  But  this  was 
blocked  by  the  love  I  bore  my  Young  Master.  I  went 
to  the  well  and  washed  my  hands,  although  I  could 
find  no  blood  on  them,  and  the  windlass  was  so  loud 
with  its  groaning  that  I  fancied  the  whole  world  must 
hear  it.  A  dog  came  up,  sniffed  at  me  and  trotted  off. 
Life  had  been  stirred  until  I  had  found  the  sugar  at  the 
bottom.  I  must  save  myself,  but  I  could  not  run  away 
without  telling  my  Master,  without  asking  his  advice. 
I  would  go  to  him.  Up  the  stairway  I  stole  without  a 
noise.  I  was  afraid  that  I  might  find  Old  Master  pac 
ing  the  hall,  and  I  listened  to  hear  his  slippered  feet, 
but  all  was  still.  I  turned  the  knob  so  gently  that  Young 
Master  did  not  hear  me  when  I  entered  the  room. 
He  sat  gazing  at  his  book.  I  spoke  and  he  started. 

"Why  do  you  come  slipping  in  this-  way,  Dan?  You 
startled  me.  What  were  you  doing  so  long?  What 
the  devil  is  the  matter  with  you,  boy?" 

I  caught  at  the  edge  of  the  table,  dropped  upon  my 
knees  and  told  him  my  story.  I  do  not  know  what  his 


182  MY  YOUNG  MASTER. 

face  might  have  shown,  for  my  eyes  were  cast  down, 
I  don't  know  what  he  felt,  but  I  do  know  that  not  a 
sound  escaped  him.  I  got  up  at  the  end  and  looked  at 
him,  and  his  face  was  pale  and  hard. 

"Lie  down,"  he  said,  pointing  to  my  lounge. 

'.'To  be  pulled  up  by  the  sheriff  ?"  I  cried. 

"Lie  down  and  ask  no  questions,  and  stay  there 
until  I  call  for  you.  If  anyone  comes  in,  you  are  too  ill 
to  get  up.  Do  you  hear  me?  This  is  hot  a  request; 
it  is  a  command.  D —  you,  will  you  do  it  ?"  he  cried, 
stamping  the  floor.  "You  belong  to  me.  Do  as  I  tell 
you.  Take  off  your  clothes.  If  father  asks  for  me,  tell 
him  I  went  away  early  in  the  evening.  Don't  say  a 
word," 

I  took  off  my  clothes,  with  the  tears  falling  on  my 
trembling  hands.  He  watched  me  until  I  was  in  bed 
and  then  he  put  the  light  out.  I  heard  the  door  close — 
heard  him  going  down  the  stair*. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Would  day-light  never  come  was  a  speculation  that 
lay  upon  my  mind  until  it  seemed  to  gather  mold,  like 
a  rag  in  a  damp  cellar.  But  why  should  I  long  for  the 
sun  to  rise  to  pour  light  upon  the  blood  in  the  lane? 
And  to  myself  I  said  that  it  would  be  better  for  me  if 
darkness  should  remain  forever  upon  the  earth.  But 
the  hours  were  so  tiresome  and  the  world  was  so 
reproachfully  still.  I  had  thought  that  my  reading  had 
led  me  away  from  the  superstitions  of  my  negro 
ancestors ;  long  ago  I  had  thrown  away  the  lucky  bone 
taken  from  the  head  of  a  cat-fish ;  I  had  ceased  to  make 
a  cross  mark  in  the  road  and  spit  in  it  whenever  I 
found  that  I  had  forgotten  something  and  was  forced 
to  turn  back;  I  did  not  believe  that  the  hanging  of  a 
dead  snake  across  the  fence,  belly  up,  would  make  it 
rain;  I  had  laughed  at  old  Steve  when  he  told  me  that 
a  horse's  tooth,  ground  to  powder  and  carried  sewed 
up  in  a  sack,  would  prevail  against  the  tricks  of  the 
conjurer.  But  now  I  believed  in  it  all  and  trembled  at 
the  awful  consequences  that  a  renegade  scorn  might 

(183) 


184  MY  TOTING   MASTER 

call  upon  me.  With  a  cold  sweat  I  remembered  the 
words  of  a  black  hag  who  lived  in  a  hovel  at  the  edge 
of  the  town.  On  an  occasion,  not  more  than  a  month 
gone-by,  she  had  taken  offense  at  what  she  termed  my 
Uppishness;  she  crossed  her  crutches  in  front  of  me, 
cut  a  mysterious  diagram  in  the  air  and  swore  that 
before  the  moon  changed  twice  I  should  fall  a  victim 
to  a  blighting  calamity.  The  moon  had  not  changed 
twice  and  the  calamity  had  fallen.  I  got  up  to  look  at 
the  moon,  to  search  for  a  confirming  mark  upon  it, 
but  through  the  windless  night,  dark  clouds  had 
floated  and  the  sky  was  black.  At  the  window  I  sat 
and  gazed  into  the  darkness  toward  the  lane.  A  wind 
sprang  up  and  was  hoarse  in  the  tree-tops.  Rain 
would  come  and  wash  the  blood  away,  but  the  body 
and  the  crying  wound  would  be  there  at  the  coming  of 
day.  I  wondered  whither  my  Young  Master  could  have 
gone  and  why  he  should  have  left  me.  Was  it  that  he 
had  gone  thus  early  to  the  authorities  to  beg  for  my 
life?  That  were  useless.  Law  and  society  must  have 
my  blood.  On  my  side  a  ton  of  justice  would  be  but 
a  thistledown,  blown  by  a  baby's  breath.  And  I  gazed 
from  the  window  toward  the  lane.  Day-light  could 
not  be  far  away;  it  had  already  fallen  upon  the  hill 
tops,  I  thought.  Yes, the  far-off  sky  was  turning  gray; 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  186 

but  nearer  it  was  black  with  clouds.  Strange  that  a 
storm  should  be  gathering  just  at  this  time.  The 
lighter  it  grew  the  nearer  the  clouds  came.  They 
split,  one  in  the  form  of  a  great  bird,  sailing  away ;  the 
other  was  a  horse  galloping  madly,  with  a  ribbon,  a 
bridle-rein  of  lightning,  flashing  at  its  throat.  The 
household  was  stirring.  I  heard  Old  Master  go  down 
the  stairs;  I  heard  old  Steve  calling  the  hogs.  There 
was  not  to  be  a  storm.  The  clouds  were  gone  and  the 
air  was  sultry.  The  horn  was  blown  to  call  the 
negroes  to  breakfast.  I  heard  horses  galloping  over 
the  turn-pike.  But  the  body  in  the  lane  had  not  been 
found.  God,  I  could  see  it,  lying  near  the  fence! 
I  heard  someone  coming  and  I  crept  back  to  bed  and 
Covered  myself.  Mr.  Clem  entered  the  room. 

"You  boys  going  to  sleep  all  day?"  he  asked.    "But 
Bob's  gone;  where  is  he?    Why,  he  hasn't  been  to  bed. 
Didn't  he  stay  here  last  night?" 
"No,  sir;  he  went  away  early  on  business." 
"But  what's  the  matter  with  you  this  morning?  You 
look  sick." 

"I  am,  sir.    I  don't  believe  I  am  able  to  get  up." 
"I'd  better  send  for  a  doctor.    Why,  you've  jot  a 
chill." 


186  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"Don't  send  for  a  doctor,"  I  pleaded.  "Don't  send 
for  anyone;  let  me  lie  here  alone." 

"Well,  I'm  sorry  you're  sick,"  he  said,  turning 
about.  "Want  anything  to  eat?" 

"No, sir.  I  just  want  to  lie  here  until  Young  Master 
comes." 

For  a  time  he  stood  looking  hard  at  me,  with  his 
hand  on  the  door.  "Hear  of  the  row  last  night?"  he 
asked.  I  feigned  surprise  and  said  that  I  had  not, 
whereupon  he  continued: 

"The  Old  General  finally  summoned  the  requis 
ite  nerve  and  drove  the  doctor  off.  I  wasn't 
very  close,  but  I  heard  all  that  passed.  The 
doctor  pleaded  and  started  to  threaten  and  then 
the  old  man  roared.  'If  you  are  anywhere  in  this 
neighborhood  by  morning,'  said  he,  'I  will  take  a  shot 
gun  to  you,  I  don't  care  what  the  public  says  or  how 
close  its  investigation  may  be.'  The  doctor  moved  on 
off  and  I  followed  along,  to  see  what  he  intended  to  do 
when  the  old  man's  back  was  turned,  and  once  I  got 
close  enough  to  hear  his  mutterings  and  to  understand 
him  to  say,  'I'll  let  the  old  fool  go,  but  somebody  will 
die  before  morning.'  Just  then  the  General  called  me 
and  I  went  back.  I  don't  know  who  the  doctor 
intended  to  kill,  didn't  know  but  it  might  be  Bob,  and 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  187 

!  would  have  come  in  last  night  to  tell  him — saw  him 
going  up  the  stairs — but  Bill  Mason  came  over  and 
said  that  he  wanted  to  beat  me  out  of  a  horse  or  two, 
and  so  I  went  over  to  his  place  and  haggled  with  him 
nearly  all  night.  Man  of  considerable  worth,  Mason 
is.  Has  kept  his  eyes  pretty  well  open  while  other 
people  have  been  dreaming,  but  he  napped  a  trifle  and 
I  came  off  some  time  before  day  with  two  better  horses 
than  I  took  with  me  and  a  pretty  fair  roll  of  money. 
I  told  Bob,  you  remember,  that  I  never  would  say  any 
thing  more  to  you  about  running  away,  and  I  won't. 
But  somehow  I  think  that  justice  ought  to  be  stronger 
than  friendship  or  even  blood  relationship.  Still,  I'll 
keep  my  word  with  him  and  not  advise  you  to  run 
away.  I  tell  you  what  I'm  going  to  do,  though.  I'm 
going  to  throw  this  roll  of  money  over  there  en  the 
bed,  and  if  it's  not  there  when  I  come  back,  and  if  you 
are  gone  by  to-night — but  I  promised  Bob." 

He  threw  a  roll  of  bank  notes  on  the  bed  and  almost 
trotted  in  his  haste  to  get  down  the  stairs.  I  got  up 
and  walked  about  the  room,  not  daring  to  look  at  the 
money,  but  my  mind  was  not  so  obedient  as  my  eyes. 
The  means  of  possible  escape  lay  there  within  my 
reach.  Could  any  human  being  blame  me  for  strug 
gling  to  save  my  life?  I  went  to  the  window  and 


188  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

looked  out  and  drew  back  with  a  shudder.  The  body 
had  been  found.  Several  persons  were  standing  about 
it,  and  along  the  lane  there  walked  a  number  of  men, 
my  young  master  in  the  midst  of  them  and  among 
them  I  recognized  the  coroner  of  the  county.  They 
were  going  to  hold  the  inquest.  I  saw  Old  Master 
and  Mr.  Clem  walking  hard  to  overtake  them.  Now 
was  my  time.  I  jumped  into  my  clothes,  wondering 
that  no  one  had  called  me  to  see  the  dead  man;  I 
clapped  my  hat  upon  my  head — and  seized  the  money. 
I  ran  to  the  door,  but  to  save  my  life  I  could  not  cross 
the  threshold.  I  stood  there  gasping,  with  that  old 
woman's  crutches  crossed  before  me.  I  threw  the 
money  upon  the  bed  and  my  love  for  my  master  arose 
strong  and  overpowering  in  my  heart,  and  with  the 
tears  streaming  from  my  eyes  I  bounded  down  the 
stairs,  out  into  the  yard,  over  the  fence,  and  tore  down 
the  lane  toward  the  spot  where  the  body  lay  under  the 
stern  eye  of  the  law.  I  caught  up  with  Old  Master 
and  Mr.  Clem  just  as  they  reached  the  place — I  ran  to 
Young  Master,  and  he  turned  upon  me  with  a  frown. 
"Don't  interrupt  me,"  he  cried,  waving  his  hand.  "I 
know  your  devotion  to  me,  but  I  demand  silence. 
Gentlemen,"  he  said,  addressing  the  coroner  and  the 
jury,  "I  don't  intend  to  make  myself  out  altogether 


MT  YOUNG  MASTER  189 

blameless,  but  I  was  forced  to  kill  him.  I  was 
unarmed  and  it  was  his  own  knife  that  shed  his  blood." 
And  then,  while  I  stood  there  gaping,  he  gave  in  min 
utest  detail  an  account  of  the  strike,  the  struggle  and 
the  fall.  I  looked  at  Old  Master  as  he  stood  there  bent 
forward,  staring;  at  Mr.  Clem  as  he  gazed  upon  the 
young  man  who  had  stepped  in  between  me  and  the 
hangman,  but  my  jaws  were  locked  wide  open  and  I 
could  not  speak. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Clem,  "I  demand  to  be 
sworn."  He  held  up  his  hand,  muttered  the  oath  and 
then  proceeded  with  his  testimony. 

"Last  night  I  heard  the  doctor  say  he  would  kill 
him.  He  said  that  he  would  let  the  old  man  go,  mean 
ing  my  brother,  but  that  someone  would  die  before 
day,  and  I  know  that  he  meant  Bob.  It  has  been  well 
known  among  us  that  bad  blood  existed  between 
them.  I—" 

Suddenly  I  leaped  forward,  struck  upon  the  head,  I 
fancied,  by  the  crutches  of  the  old  woman,  and  with 
a  cry  I  fell  upon  my  knees.  "My  master  did  not  kill 
him;"  I  groaned  in  agony.  "I  killed  him.  Listen 
to  me  and  then  you  may  hang  me.  I — " 

Bob  sprang  at  me  and  clapped  his  hand  over  my 
mouth.  "Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "this  poor,  devoted  boy 


190  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

would  save  my  life — it's  his  way  of  repaying  a  life-long 
kindness.  Pay  no  attention  to  him,  but  let  us  attend 
to  the  demands  of  justice.  I  killed  this  man,  I  have 
told  you  why  and  how.  And  I  am  ready  to  take  the 
consequences.  Come  here,  Dan."  He  jerked  me  to 
my  feet  and  led  me  off.  "Dispute  me  another  time," 
he  said,  "and  before  God  I  will  cut  your  throat.  Now 
go  to  the  house  or  I'll  take  a  stick  and  beat  you  every 
step  of  the  way." 

I  was  almost  bereft  of  my  senses  as  I  walked  toward 
the  house.  I  met  Old  Miss  with  a  troop  of  negroes 
behind  her.  She  was  wringing  her  hands  and  the 
negroes  were  crooning  a  low  chant.  Some  one  bade 
me  stop,  but  I  hastened  on,  through  the  yard,  up  to  the 
room;  and  the  sight  of  the  money  lying  there  on  the 
bed,  the  thought  that  I  had  clutched  it  to  run  away 
from  the  noblest  man  that  ever  breathed,  drove  me 
mad;  and  I  fell  upon  the  lounge  and  the  world  was 
black. 

When  I  opened  my  eyes  to  the  light,  I  was 
undressed  between  the  sheets  and  a  cloth  was  bound 
about  my  head.  Someone  was  talking.  I  looked  up 
and  saw  a  physician  just  taking  his  leave.  Bob  stood 
at  the  window.  I  raised  myself  up  and  he  hastened 
to  me. 

"Don't  get  up,  Dan,"  he  said. 


"Yes,  I  am  all  right  now."  But  I  was  not  all  right. 
I  was  so  weak  that  I  could  scarcely  sit  up  in  bed. 

"What  time  is  it?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  about  ten,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "And  I'm 
devilish  glad  to  see  that  you've  come  out  all  right. 
We  thought  at  one  time  that  you  were  gone.  You 
raved  all  day  yesterday." 

"Yesterday!  No,  we  were  deep  in  our  books  yes 
terday." 

"Dan,  you  have  been  in  bed  a  week." 

"Is  it  possible?"  I  cried,  and  then  I  looked  at  him. 
He  read  the  inquiry  that  was  in  my  mind.  "The  cor 
oner's  jury  discharged  me,"  he  said.  "And  not  a 
vestige  of  blame  clings  to  me.  The  neighbors  all 
have  come  to  give  me  their  hands.  Now  if  you  are 
going  to  cry  like  a  fool,  I  won't  tell  you  about  it. 
There,  I  didn't  mean  to  be  harsh.  It's  all  right.  They 
said  that  I  couldn't  have  done  otherwise,  and  no  regret 
is  expressed.  Why,  it  has  made  quite  a  hero  out  of 
you.  Fame  whirls  her  cloak  in  the  air  and  we  never 
know  how  soon  it  is  going  to  fall.  Don't  look  at 
me  that  way.  Oh,  yes,  you  may  take  my  hand  if  you 
want  to.  There,  now,  don't  blubber.  Why,  don't  you 
know  they  would  have  hanged  you  long  before  this 
time?  But  we  won't  talk  about  that.  We  didn't  bury 


192  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

him  in  the  garden,"  he  went  on  after  a  slight 
"but  in  the  grave-yard  on  the  other  side  of  town. 
We  agreed,  mother  with  the  rest  of  us,  that  he  must 
not  lie  beside  my  sister.  It  may  seem  strange  to  you, 
but  the  household  appears  happier.  Father's  mind 
has  thrown  off  a  load.  And  Uncle  Clem  has  been  so 
stimulated  that  he  has  filled  the  stable  with  horses. 
He's  preparing  to  drive  them  to  market.  Don't  be  in 
a  hurry  about  getting  up.  Just  take  your  time.  And 
I'll  go  down  and  have  them  send  you  something  to 
eat.'* 


CHAPTER   XX. 

News  came  that  a  minister  had  preached  a 
sermon  upon  my  devotion  to  my  master  and  exhorted 
his  hearers  to  be  thus  faithful  unto  their  Master,  the 
Lord.  This  was  brought  to  me  by  none  other  than 
Old  Miss  herself.  I  was  able  to  sit  with  a  book  upon 
my  lap,  and  out  of  respect  for  her  prejudice,  I  put  the 
volume  down  as  she  entered  the  room,  but  she  bade 
me  keep  it.  And  when  she  had  told  me  what  the 
preacher  said,  she  added:  "You  may  read  all  the 
books  you  like,  for  we  know  now  that  you  cannot  be 
poisoned  by  them.  It  was  noble  of  you,  Dan." 

"Please  don't  talk  that  way,"  I  pleaded,  my  heart 
smiting  me. 

"Yes,  I  will.  You  tried  to  throw  yourself  into  my 
son's  place  to  save  him,  and  I  can't  say  too  much  in 
your  favor.  And  you  will  reap  your  reward  when  the 
time  comes.  'Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  ser 
vant,'  can  be  said  of  you." 

Old  Master  came  in  while  she  was  sitting  there.  He 
appeared  to  be  pleased  with  the  attention  she  showed 

(193) 


194  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

me,  or  his  pleasure  might  have  proceeded  from  his 
discovery  that  her  temper  was  improved.  "You'll  be 
all  right  now  pretty  soon,"  he  said.  "I  don't  believe 
that  I'd  read  too  much.  It  isn't  well  to  strain  your 
mind.  Has  your  young  master  told  you  that  he  is 
preparing  himself  for  examination?  He  is  nearly 
ready,  and  will  be  by  the  time  court  meets  next  week. 
He's  afraid  that  he  won't  get  through  without  a  bob 
ble,  but  I  think  he'll  go  through  like  a  flash.  He  has 
decided  to  enter  old  Judge  Bruce's  office.  The  old 
fellow  doesn't  know  much  but  he  is  a  good  palaverer 
and  has  a  pretty  fair  practice.  He  never  was  a  real 
judge,  you  know — was  a  candidate  once  and  came  otf 
with  the  title  but  missed  the  office." 

As  Old  Master  became  warmer  toward  me,  Old 
Miss  grew  cooler;  her  countenance  while  she  talked 
had  been  kindly,  but  now  it  was  veiled  with  a  frown. 
The  prospect  of  seeing  Young  Master  established  as  a 
lawyer  lifted  my  spirits,  but  the  sight  of  his  mother's 
displeasure  toward  me  threw  them  down.  Old  Mas 
ter  observed  the  change  in  the  atmosphere.  "Madam," 
said  he,  "I  have  been  thinking  that  we  need  a  new 
carpet  for  the  parlor." 

"Indeed,"  she  replied,  bowing  with  a  mocking 
grace,  "I  am  delighted  to  credit  your  eye-sight  with  a 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  195 

sudden  improvement.  I  have  spoken  of  the  condition 
of  that  carpet  until  I  am  tired  of  it.  It's  the  talk  of 
the  neighborhood,  I'm  sure.  Mrs.  Ramsey  turned 
up  her  nose  at  it  the  other  day,  and  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  that  it  was  a  pretty  pass  indeed  to  be  humili 
ated  in  my  own  house  by  such  a  thing  as  she  is.  And 
it  was  no  longer  ago  than  last  fall  that  her  husband 
had  to  sell  an  old  negro  woman  that  had  been  in  the 
family  all  her  life." 

"Huh,"  grunted  the  old  man,  winking  slyly  at  me. 
"Did  she  turn  up  her  nose  very  high?"  He  grabbed 
out  a  red  handkerchief,  snorted  into  it  and  sat  looking 
at  her  with  the  water  of  an  old  mischief  standing  in 
his  eyes. 

"General,  don't  laugh  at  me.  I  am  the  last  person 
in  this  world  that  you  should  laugh  at.  Don't  you 
do  it!" 

"But,  madam,  you  are  the  first  person  I  should 
laugh  with." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  laugh  at  anybody  after 
what  we  have  gone  through  with  lately,  blood  spat 
tered  on  our  door-sill ;  but  I  actually  believe  that  you 
have  been  gayer  since  that  awful  event."  With  that 
remark  she  flounced  out  of  the  room,  and  the  old  man 
sat  there,  looking  out  into  the  Hue  space  of  the  speck- 


196  MY  YOUNG   MASTttK 

less  day,  silent  and  absorbed.  After  a  time  he  turned 
his  old  eyes  slowly  upon  me. 

"The  youth  whose  promise  in  life  embraces  the 
prospect  of  a  broad  scope  should  be  taught  that  at  the 
end  of  it  all — this  alluring  rain-bow — lies  disappoint 
ment.  Sometimes  when  I  have  seen  my  men  in  the 
field,  with  no  thought  of  the  morrow  and  with  never 
a  worry  except  some  trifling  physical  ill,  I  have  wished 
that  I  was  one  of  them.  I  started  out  wrong,"  he  went 
on,  shaking  his  head  slowly  up  and  down.  "Horses 
can  be  called  back  from  a  false  spurt  in  the  race,  and 
another  start  taken,  but  men  must  go  on.  Dan,  I  have 
stood  by  and  seen  you  trying  to  educate  yourself,  and 
I  have  said  nothing,  although  I  know  that  education 
is  often  the  sensitizing  of  a  nerve  that  leads  to  misery. 
To  be  a  gentleman  means  to  possess  a  large  ability  to 
feel,  and  to  feel  is  to  worry,  to  brood  and  to  suffer. 
Men  of  the  North  and  gentlemen  of  the  South,  the 
phrase  has  gone  forth.  Our  old  Virginia  blood  is 
gentle,  in  society;  but  alone, it  is  hot  with  the  lingering 
fire  of  the  cavalier.  Do  you  know  what  I  am  saying?" 
he  asked,  deepening  the  wrinkles  in  his  brow. 

"No,  sir;  I  don't  know  that  I  do." 

"I  suppose  not.  I  have  been  beating  the  devil 
around  an  oratorical  sfeuaap,  sir,"  he  said,  his  scrawny, 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

red  neck  stiffening.  "I  don't  know  that  I  understand 
myself.  Is  that  Bob  or  Clem  coming  up  the  stairs? 
It's  Bob.  Glad  to  see  you  doing  so  well,"  he  added, 
getting  up.  And  standing  for  a  moment,  he  put  his 
hand  on  my  head.  "You  are  a  noble  fellow,  even  if 
you  are  a  slave  and  a  negro." 

Going  out  he  met  Young  Master  coming  in.  The 
young  man  saluted ;  the  old  man  gave  him  a  smile  and 
a  kindly  nod  and  passed  on.  Bob  spoke  to  me;  said 
he  was  glad  to  see  me  improving  so  fast ;  he  sat  down  and 
took  up  his  book.  He  opened  it  at  random,  knowing 
it  so  well  that  any  place  offered  an  understandable 
beginning,  but  he  did  not  read.  He  turned  his  eyes 
toward  me  and  said :  "You  remember  that  about  two 
months  ago  a  gentleman  named  Potter  bought  the  old 
Jamison  place,  over  on  the  pike?  Mother  and  I  called  on 
the  family.  And  since  then  I  have  been  over  there 
a  number  of  times,  though  I  have  said  nothing  about 
it  to  even  you.  All  my  life  I  have  been  gazing  about. 
to  discover  a  sweet  secret,  and  I  think  I've  found  one. 
Yes — and  her  name  is  Jane."  At  this  he  laughed,  threw 
down  his  book,  shoved  his  chair  back  and  put  his  feet 
on  the  table.  "The  name  is  well  enough,  no  doubt, 
but  in  this  part  of  the  country  we  usually  associate  it 
with  a  black  wench,  you  know;  and  I  was  impudent 


198  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

enough  to  ask  Mrs.  Potter  why  she  didn't  call  her 
Jenny,  but  she  shut  me  up  with,  'she  was  named  for 
my  mother  and  it  is  an  honorable  name,  I'm  sure.' 
And  it  is,  too — it  takes  on  bright  colors  as  I  associate 
it  with  her.  But  I  never  thought  that  I  could  be 
smitten  with  a  girl  named  Jane.  It  struck  me  that 
they  had  nick-named  a  rose — said  scat  to  a  lily.  Do 
you  know  what  she  did?  Came  over  here  to  see  you. 
Said  she  wanted  to  see  a  hero.  I  brought  her  up  and 
she  looked  upon  you  as  you  lay  here  unconscious.  As 
a  usual  thing,  a  boy  is  born  in  love — falls  in  love  with 
his  nurse  if  no  one  else  is  handy — but  I  have  escaped 
pretty  well.  Oh,  I  did  rather  love  the  Webster  girl, 
and  I  confess  to  breathing  hard  whenever  Miss  Flem- 
ming,  the  old  maid  school-teacher,  came  about;  but 
I'm  sure  I  never  was  knocked  senseless  with  a  per 
fumed  slung-shot  until  I  met  Jane.  Well,  the  name's 
all  right;  is  like  the  finest  music — takes  you  some  time 
to  discover  its  beauties.  I  told  her  that  I  was  going 
to  be  a  lawyer  and  she  said  that  was  charming; 
declared  that  she  was  coming  to  hear  my  first  speech. 
I  wish  she  would;  I  could  shame  Demosthenes." 

Not  since  he  was  a  small  boy  had  I  heard  him  rattle 
on  so,  and  it  was  a  delight  to  me.  Of  late  his  over- 
manishness  and  his  abstraction  had  told  of  too  deep  an 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  199 

absorption  in  his  books,  of  an  impatient  ambition 
gnawing  him,  and  this  chaffy  talk  and  the  idle  light 
of  his  countenance  relieved  a  fear  that  had  crept  into 
my  mind. 

"There  is  something  more  than  beauty  about  her," 
he  went  on,  taking  pleasure  in  the  interest  I  was  show 
ing.  "She  reminds  Uncle  Clem  of  a  blooded  horse, 
he  says.  I  was  inclined  to  take  exceptions  at  this,  but 
remembered  that  it  was  but  an  expression  of  real 
enthusiasm.  She  steps  like  a  fawn,  springs  off  the 
turf  before  she  appears  to  have  touched  it.  My  first 
feeling  toward  her  was  one  of  gladness.  I  was  selfish 
enough  to  believe,  or  to  fancy  that  I  believed,  she  had 
been  created  to  delight  me.  And  when  I  removed  my 
eyes  from  her,  I  felt  sad.  Her  eyes  laughed  at  me  and 
her  lips  seemed  to  say,  I  have  found  a  fool.  At  the 
gate  she  had  jumped  off  a  horse  and  was  in  a  riding 
habit  when  she  came  running  into  the  room.  She 
was  in  no  wise  embarrassed  by  me.  After  a  while  she 
said  that  she  was  hungry  and  I  was  startled.  I  could 
not  conceive  of  that  creature  sitting  down  to  vulgar 
bread,  and  I  was  stupid  enough  to  say  that  I  didn't 
see  how  she  existed  in  the  winter,  with  the  roses  all 
gone.  I  knew  she  must  eat  roses.  And  she  smote  me 
hard  by  replying  that  cabbages  came  on  about  the 


200  MT  YOUNG  MASTER 

time  roses  gave  out.  This  tickeled  her  mother 
immensely  and  she  shook  her  fat  sides  and  fanned  her 
self  with  the  wing  o£  a  guinea  hen.  I  am  getting  all 
my  visits  mixed,  perhaps,  but  I  am  giving  you  a  col 
lection  of  impressions.  The  mother  is  ignorant  and 
the  father  is  coarse.  He  made  money  driving  mules 
to  New  Orleans  and  bought  the  Jamison  farm.  Yes, 
her  mother  and  father  are  plebeian,  but  the  girl  is  a 
patrician  of  the  rarest  type.  She  told  me  that  she  had 
just  come  from  school.  I  asked  her  if  she  were  sure 
she  had  not  just  come  from  a  gallery  of  famous  por 
traits.  This  tickeled  her  and  my  blood  danced  in 
rhythm  with  her  laugh.  Every  line  of  my  prose,  law, 
oratory,  turned  up  crackling  like  drying  leaves  and 
was  blown  away,  but  all  the  poetry  I  had  read 
remained,  blooming  anew.  Now  you  know  how  bad 
off  I  am,  and  you  may  congratulate  yourself  that  you 
can't  follow  me  into  this  new  domain.  Oh, 
what  is  so  delicious  as  a  fool's  love  affair!  But  I  won 
der  if  she's  going  to  have  fun  with  me  and  then  tell 
me  to  go.  No,  sir,  I'm  going  to  win  her  love  if 
actions,  words  and  devotion  count  for  anything.  Dan, 
she  has  given  me  new  blood.  Good  thing  that  some 
thing  has  happened,  for  this  quiet,  expectant  life  is 
almost  unbearable." 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

"What's  that?"  cried  Mr.  CLem,  stepping  into  the 
room.  "Quiet  life,  do  I  hear?  Well,  it  won't  always 
be  this  quiet,  my  son.  Lincoln  will  be  nominated  for 
the  presidency  as  sure  as  you  live,  and  the  chances 
are  that  he'll  get  in,  and  then  what?  War,  my  boy; 
red-whiskered  war.  The  South  is  as  sore  as  a  stone- 
bruise  and  won't  accept  an  abolitionist.  Our  high 
aristocrats  have  been  hankering  a  long  time  for  a  fight 
and  they  are  going  to  get  it." 

"Let  it  come,"  replied  Young  Master,  shoving  his 
hands  into  his  pockets.  "It  will  be  a  tournament, 
music,  smiles  and  flowers.  Then  we'll  all  eat  out  of 
the  same  bowl." 

"Don't  you  fool  yourself!"  the  old  man  exclaimed, 
and  I  saw  that  he  was  deeply  in  earnest.  "It  won't  be 
a  tournament.  It  will  look  more  like  a  butcher's  pen." 

"But  the  blood-letting  will  be  good  for  our  swollen 
pride.  It  will  give  us  all  a  chance  to  strut  like  a  turkey 
gobbler,  and,  Uncle  Clem,  it  will  bring  up  the  price  of 
horses." 

"By  the  hoofs,  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  I  never  saw 
a  young  fellow  improve  as  fast  as  you  do,  Bob.  In 
the  last  week  or  so  you  have  said  several  pretty  good 
things.  You  are  getting  the  proper  grasp  on  truth; 
and  if  a  man  has  truth  in  one  hand  it  needn't  make  any 


202  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

difference  wkat  the  other  fellow  has  in  both  handt*. 
Yes,  sir,  if  a  war  should  break  out,  the  horse  market 
would  hold  up  its  head  and  snort.  But  say,  Bob, 
wasn't  there  a  little  love  mixed  up  in  what  you  were 
saying  as  I  came  in?" 

"Not  a  little,  uncle.     All." 

"The  girl  you've  been  prancing  around  with  lately?" 

"Yes,  if  you  wish  to  put  it  that  way." 

"High  stepper,  Bobbie ;  trot  a  mile  in — I  mean  she's 
all  right.  Good  nostrils — shapely  nose,  you  under 
stand.  Laughs  well,  teeth  all  sound,  and  if  I  were  a 
young  fellow,  I'd  agree  to  pay  her  way  into  every  show 
that  might  come  along,  and  make  a  fire  for  her  every 
morning.  Why,  Dan,  you  appear  to  be  tickled 
nearly  to  death.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  found  that 
money  on  the  bed  where  I  dropped  it.  Talk  about 
your  heroes  of  old,  why — " 

I  interrupted  him  with  a  sign  of  real  distress.  "I 
must  beg  of  you  and  of  everyone  else,  Mr.  Clem,  not 
to  try  to  make  a  hero  out  of  me.  But  there  is  a  hero 
under  this  roof — " 

"Dan,"  Young  Master  broke  in,  "I  have  just  sharp 
ened  my  knife  and  I  am  almost  tempted  to  cut  off  your 
ears.  Of  what  use  is  an  ear  when  you  turn  it  from 
heart-felt  praise  to  catch  the  unsympathetic  tones  of 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  203 

average  life?  And  now  when  anyone  starts  to  compli 
ment  you  upon  your  heroism,  I  command  you  to  keep 
your  ears  open  and  your  mouth  shut.  You  did  act 
the  part  of  a  hero.  Shut  up,  not  a  word  out  of  you." 
Mr.  Clem  swore  with  a  horsey  oath  that  I  was  a 
hero,  and  I  was  compelled  to  sit  there  and  listen  to  his 
extravagant  praise. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

I  saw  Young  Master  admitted  to  the  bar.  The  court 
house  was  crowded,  for  an  exciting  trial  was  on,  but 
a  kind-hearted  bailiff  let  me  take  a  seat  wherein  I 
could  hear  every  question  asked  by  the  committee  of 
examiners.  I  knew  that  he  could  answer  them,  and  I 
felt  not  the  slightest  fear,  but  my  heart  stood  still  as 
he  tripped  over  a  point  almost  absurdly  simple.  I 
noticed  that  he  had  just  cast  his  eyes  toward  the  gal 
lery,  and  looking  that  way  at  the  instant  of  his  petty 
stumble,  I  beheld  a  tall  and  graceful  girl,  standing  with 
her  head  leaning  against  a  post,  looking  at  him,  and  I 
knew  that  his  divinity  had  confused  him.  But  he 
recovered  himself,  and  I  saw  Old  Master  swell  with 
pride  and  Old  Miss  wipe  her  eyes.  I  was  in  hopes 
that  they  would  give  him  an  opportunity  to  make  a 
speech  after  the  examination,  but  there  was  no  occa 
sion  for  his  oratory,  so  I  walked  out  to  wait  for  him 
at  the  door.  Old  Master  and  Old  Miss  came  out  to 
wait  also,  not  caring  to  push  themselves  behind  the 
bar  among  the  lawyers,  and  indeed  too  proud  to  let 

(304) 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  205 

the  neighbors  presume  that  there  had  been  any  anxiety 
concerning  the  result.  Presently  Young  Master  came 
out  with  the  girl  whom  I  had  seen  standing  in  the 
gallery.  The  old  people  shook  hands  with  her  when 
they  had  shaken  hands  with  him,  and  upon  me  the 
young  woman  turned  her  beautiful  eyes.  "Oh,  this  is 
your  faithful  boy,"  she  said,  speaking  to  Bob,  but  look 
ing  at  me.  "I  am  glad  to  see  him  out  and  looking  so 
well." 

She  had  ridden  a  horse,  but  Young  Master  requested 
the  favor  of  taking  her  home  in  his  buggy.  She 
said  that  such  an  arrangement  would  please  her 
greatly,  and  her  eyes  danced  with  the  delight  of  the 
thought.  I  brought  the  buggy  and  was  told  to  sit  on 
the  shelf  seat  behind  to  lead  her  horse.  She  bade  the 
old  people  an  affectionate  good-bye,  and  out  the  turn 
pike  we  drove,  along  the  stretches  of  red  clover  and 
underneath  majestic  trees.  In  the  distance  to  her 
home,  three  miles  or  more,  there  lay  a  charm,  and 
they  did  not  suffer  the  spirited  horse  to  trot.  The  day 
was  warm,  the  leather  curtain  raised,  and  I  could  hear 
distinctly  the  words  that  passed  between  them.  I 
could  see  that  he  had  not  more  than  hinted  at  his  love 
for  her.  Her  beauty  dazzled  him  and  made  him  afraid. 
He  would  have  talked  of  books,  but  she  leaped  lightly 


206  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

from  that  subject,  and  from  this  I  inferred  that  her 
mind  was  not  well  stored  with  the  knowledge  gathered 
by  the  busy  men  of  the  past.  But  she  was  bright  and 
her  talk  like  herself  was  spirited  and  pretty,  and  her 
observation  was  minute.  She  had  seen  everything 

about  the  court-room,  an  old  lawyer  with  a  spot  of  ink 

* 
on  the  sleeve  of  his  linen  coat,  a  tattered  book  on  the 

floor,  a  handful  of  trash  swept  into  a -corner. 

"The  stars  shine  on  all  that  Ites  beneath  them,"  said 
Master,  a  fine  tribute  to  her  eyes,  I  thought ;  and  she 
must  have  thought  so,  tog*  for  -she  gave  him  a  laugh 
that  rippled  like  our  creek  of  a  morning,  when  the  wind 
is  low.  But  she  protested  against  his  gallantry  with 
a  sternness  that  could  not  have  belonged  to  her  light 
nature,  a  plea  to  him  to  repeat  it,  which  he  did.  To  his 
ardent  nature,  frivolity  was  a  foreign  commodity  upon 
which  a  heavy  import  tax  was  laid.  He  could  be  argu 
mentative,  oratorical,  gay,  serious  and  bright  for  hours 
at  a  time,  but  the  silly  though  pretty  chatter  which  our 
social  life  is  supposed  to  dash  as  spray  between  the 
masculine  and  the  feminine  mind  was  far  beyond  him. 
In  nearly  all  affairs  he  was  too  intense  for  the  perfectly 
balanced  mind.  And  on  this  day  he  strove  repeatedly 
to  fasten  the  young  woman  down  to  seriousness,  that 
he  might  estimate  her  mental  strength,  I  perceived; 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  507 

but  slie  flitted  about  like  a  humming  bird,  no  sooner 
attracted  by  one  flower  than  allured  away  by  another. 
Still  the  perfect  femininity  of  her  wit,  vor  that  which 
might  pass  for  it,  was  captivating.  A  strained  and 
tiresome  novelette,  now  almost  forgotten,  was  then  an 
imported  rage,  and  she  had  not  escaped  the  infection. 
She  spoke  of  characters  that  Bob  knew  nothing  of  and 
was  surprised  at  his  frank  acknowledgment  of  ignor 
ance. 

"A  young  man  of  your  standing  can't  afford  not  to 
know  that  character,"  she  said.  "Society  demands  it 
of  you,  and  I  believe  I  would  pretend  to  know,"  she 
added,  laughing. 

"We  always  meet  society's  demands  when  we  pre 
tend,"  he  replied.  "People  don't  ask  us  to  know  a 
thing  but  to  assume  that  we  know  it  and  not  get 
caught.  I  haven't  had  time  to  sip  negus,"  he  went  on 
after  a  pause;  "I  have  been  too  busy  with  drinking  a 
stronger  draught.  I  sit  in  the  glow  of  the  great  books, 
6ut  pass  by  the  little  twinkling  lights,  for  I  know  that 
soon  they  must  go  out." 

"Or,  in  other  words,"  she  spoke  up,  "you  tread  upon 
a  snow-drop  while  gazing  at  a  sun-flower." 

This  remark,  and  I  acknowledge  its  aptness,  was  so 
pleasing  to  her  that  she  laughed  the  music  of  self- 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

compliment;  and  the  lambs  in  the  grass-land  lifted 
their  noses  out  of  the  sweet  tangle  of  clover  to  look  at 
her.  I  was  -so  close  that  when  she  leaned  back 
once  a  wayward  wisp  of  her  hair  swept  across  my  face, 
more  like  a  breath  than  a  tangible  touch,  it  was  so 
silken  and  soft.  I  studied  the  almost  imperceptible 
grain  of  her  pink,  plush  skin,  I  was  so  near  her,  and 
yet  to  me  she  was  so  strangely  unreal.  To  look  upon 
her  surely  was  a  delight,  but  turning  away  and  shut 
ting  my  eyes  to  recall  her  features,  she  seemed  a 
memory  far  off  and  shadowy.  I  could  have  given  her 
a  sort  of  worship,  the  romantic  adoration  compelled 
by  a  naiad  reposing  on  a  moss-bank  at  the  source  of  a 
tinkling  stream,  but  I  could  not  have  felt  for  her  the 
surging  passion  of  a  human  love.  There  was  nothing 
supernatural  in  her  grace;  in  her  movement  there  was 
the  soft  and  unconscious  suppression  of  a  cat's  agility ; 
and  her  bosom  bespoke  a  strong  instinct  of  mother 
hood,  and  yet  to  me  she  was  vaguely  unnatural.  She 
was  wanting  in  heart. 

A  powerful  love  looks  upon  itself  as  hopeless;  upon 
it  mutt  be  thrown  that  sort  of  a  light,  to  complete  its 
d«licio«sness ;  and  I  saw  that  my  master's  love  was 
powerful,  but  I  could  not  see  that  it  was  hopeless. 
She  might  never  give  him  a  woman's  complete  devo- 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  209 

tion,  I  argued,  for  I  did  not  believe  that  her  nature 
could  comprehend  his  finer  forces,  but  I  felt  that  she 
would  give  him  her  hand  and  what  she  supposed  to 
be  her  heart. 

"Do  you  mean  to  surrender  your  life  wholly  to  law 
books?"  she  asked,  giving  him  a  glance  in  which  I 
could  see  a  charming  fear. 

"Oh,  no.  To  my  mind  a  law  book  without  poetry 
behind  it  is  a  heap  of  helpless  dust.  At  first  I  must 
agree  to  take  almost  any  case  that  may  chance  to  come 
along,  but  after  a  while  I  will  scorn  all  but  the  causes 
that  admit  of  an  orator's  effort." 

'•'Oh,  that  will  be  lovely!"  she,  cried.  "And  to  think 
that  you  entertain  yourself  and  then  get  pay  for  it. 
However,  if  I  were  a  man,  I  think  I  would  be  a 
preacher.  Preachers  are  nearly  always  so  nice  and 
clean  and  they  say  such  pretty  things  to  women." 

"It  was  my  mother's  ambition  that  I  should  be  a 
preacher,  and  I'm  sorry  now  that  I  did  not  gratify  it," 
he  said. 

"Oh,  charming  of  you  to  say  so,  Mr.  Gradley.  You 
see  I  don't  let  such  a  compliment  get  away  from  me. 
I  might  have  pretended  not  to  see  it,  and — and  I 
believe  I  would  if  I  had  thought  a  moment.  Then 
I  could  have  matte  you  repeat  3t.  Bot  really  it  is 


210  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

better  for  you  to  be  a  lawyer  than  a  preacher.  You 
have  so  much  fire.  Everybody  says  you  are  going 
to  make  your  mark,  and  when  you  got  into  that 
trouble  lately  some  one  said  it  would  ruin  you,  but 
father  said  it  wouldn't.  He  killed  a  man  once.  Why, 
people  have  to  kill  men  who  try  to  kill  them,  don't 
they?  But  we  won't  talk  about  that.  Are  you  going 
to  the  pic-nic  over  at  Fletcher's  Grove?" 

"I  hadn't  thought  about  it.    Are  you  going?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  I'd  like  to,  ever  so  much." 

"Then  go  with  me." 

"Oh,  that  would  be  delightful,  and  I  will  be  ready 
when  you  call  for  me.  Do  you  dance?" 

"I  think,"  said  he,  "that ,  I  might  have  courage 
enough  to  rob  a  stage-coach  or  to  fight  a  duel  in  a 
dark  room,  but  I'm  afraid  that  I  couldn't  summon  the 
nerve  to  get  out  before  a  number  of  people  and  try  to 
dance." 

"Oh,  you  wouldn't  mind  it  at  all.  Just  as  soon  as 
the  music  strikes  up  you  forget  all  about  yourself. 
But  isn't  it  dull  about  here?  Nothing  to  do  but  to 
sit  about  and  wait.  Last  year  I  visited  an  aunt  who 
lives  in  Connecticut,  and  I  had  such  a  nice  time. 
Everyone  there  is  so  active.  But,  after  all,  I  was  kept 
angry  a  good  deal  over  the  negro  question.  I  never 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  211 

did  get  so  tired  of  hearing  a  subject  dinged  upon. 
They  hate  us  and  can't  help  showing  it;  and  they  actu 
ally  believe  that  one  of  these  days  they'll  come  down 
here,  and,  as  they  express  it,  turn  the  negroes  loose. 
They  believe  we  keep  them  chained  together  all  the 
time;  and  that  hateful  book,  'Uncle  Tom's  Cabin/  is 
their  bible.  Have  you  ever  seen  it?" 

"My  uncle  brought  a  copy  with  him  and  I  read  it," 
Bob  answered.  "I  don't  care  for  its  principles, 
whether  they  are  true  or  false — literature  being  its 
own  principle — but  to  me  it  bears  the  mark  of  a  polit 
ical  pamphlet  that  has  happened  to  make  a  hit,  strong 
with  prejudice  but  hasty  and  slip-shod  in  expression. 
To  me  there  is  no  art  in  it,  no  imagination  but  all 
sermon.  The  characters  are  unreal,  standing  in  the 
light  of  a  red  fire ;  they  are  talking-machines,  grinding 
out  music-box  melodies,  set  homilies;  but  the  subject 
is  powerful  and  the  book  needs  no  art  to  give  it  force. 
And  many  a  year  will  pass  before  we  hear  the  last 
of  it." 

"Why,  Mr.  Gradley,  you  can  take  an  interest  in 
light  books  after  all.  I  was  afraid  that  you  were  deter 
mined  to  keep  yourself  chained  to  the  venerable  mas 
ters  of — of — what  shall  I  say? — venerable  masters  of 
profound  thought.  That  will  do,  won't  it?" 


212  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"Very  appropriate,  I  assure  you,  but  'Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin'  can  scarcely  be  classed  as  a  light  book.  It 
comes  in  a  light  garb  but  its  nature  is  most  serious." 

The  horse  shied  at  a  piece  of  paper  fluttering  in  the 
road,  and  with  a  little  scream  she  seized  the  lines.  He 
asked  her  if  she  would  give  them  back  when  she 
should  find  that  no  longer  was  there  any  danger,  and 
laughing  rythmically  and  with  blushes  she  returned 
the  lines  to  him. 

"No,  apology  and  no  embarrassment,"  said  he.  "It 
came  of  woman's  instinctive  sense  of  protection,  of  her 
responsibility  at  a  time  of  peril." 

"Now  you  are  making  fun  of  me,  Mr.  Gradley.  Oh, 
boy  (turning  to  look  at  me).  What's  his  name?  Dan? 
Oh,  yes.  How's  my  horse  coming  on,  Dan?  Well, 
for  pity's  sake,  if  he  hasn't  turned  him  loose." 

The  horse  was  grazing  some  distance  down  the 
road,  and  without  waiting  to  beg  pardon  for  my  stupid 
neglect  of  the  charge  intrusted  to  me,  I  jumped  down 
to  run  after  him.  Master  and  the  young  woman  did 
not  wait  for  me,  but  drove  to  Miss  Potter's  home,  now 
bat  a  short  distance  away.  As  I  came  up  leading  the 
horse  toward  the  gate,  where  master  and  Miss  Potter 
were  standing,  old  man  Potter  canae  walking  out.  He 
was  ef¥»«ve  in  his  welcome,  swearing  upon  his  life 


MY  YOttNG   MASTER  213 

that  never  was  he  gladder  to  see  a  man.  "Ah,"  he 
said,  looking  at  me,  "and  this  here  is  the  boy  that  we 
all  have  heard  such  a  good  report  about.  A  likely 
young  feller,  Mr.  Gradley,  and  I  don't  reckon  you'd 
care  to  sell  him." 

"No,  sir,"  said  Bob,  assuming  to  be  gentle  but  look 
ing  his  contempt  for  the  coarse  old  fellow.  But  Mr. 
Potter  could  interpret  no  looks  of  contempt;  he  was 
too  busy  surveying  me  from  head  to  foot. 

"Yes,  reckon  you  do  think  a  good  deal  of  him,  and 
I  wouldn't  wonder  but  it  would  take  a  right  putty 
piece  of  money  to  buy  him." 

"I  could  not  be  induced  to  part  with  him,  sir,"  mas 
ter  replied. 

"Yes,  sir,  got  a  right  to  think  a  good  deal  of  him. 
Coin'  to  learn  him  any  sort  of  trade?  Strong  enough 
to  make  a  good  blacksmith.  Owned  one  about  like 
him  once.  Swapped  him  for  a  woman  and  a  child." 

"Why,  father,"  the  daughter  spoke  up,  "Dan  is  Mr. 
Gradley's  body  servant." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  old  fellow,  his  cold  and 
speculative  eye  still  bent  upon  me,  "but  it  wouldn't  be 
out  of  the  way  to  learn  him  how  to  do  something. 
Comes  in  mighty  handy  sometimes  and  we  never  can 
tell  what  mout  happen." 


214  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

The  girl  winced  at  the  word  "mout,"  unmistakable 
symbol  of  the  white  trash,  and  smiling  to  cut  a  blush 
in  two,  she  said:  "You  observe,  Mr.  Gradley,  that 
father  doesn't  care  how  he  talks.  He  fell  into  the 
habit  of  imitating  a  queer  old  fellow  who  lived  near 
us  and  now  he  does  it  unintentionally.  Let  us  go  into 
the  house?" 

"Yes,  come  on,"  old  Potter  joined  in.  "Jest  as 
cheap  inside  as  out,  and  it  ain't  as  tiresome  settin'  as 
standin'.  Boy,  (giving  his  eye  to  me  again)  go  round 
to  the  kitchen  and  tell  them  to  give  you  something  to 
eat." 

"We  haven't  time  to  stop,"  Bob  interposed.  "We 
expect  several  friends  at  dinner,  and — " 

"Jest  as  well  eat  a  snack  with  us,"  the  old  fellow 
broke  in.  "Jest  as  cheap  and  it  won't  take  nigh  so 
long.  I  reckon  I've  got  as  fine  a  piece  of  mutton  as 
you  ever  set  your  teeth  on — sheep  that  I  didn't  want  to 
part  with  but  an  infernal  dog  came  along  this  morning 
and  grabbed  him  and  cut  his  throat  as  slick  as  a  whis 
tle — and  we  know  how  te  cook  mutton  at  our  house. 
Come  on." 

He  continued  to  urge  his  hospitality,  and  to  praise 
the  sheep  that  had  been  killed  by  a  dog,  and  the  girl 
pleaded  with  her  eyes;  and  I  thought  that  Bob  would 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  21k 

waver,  he  smiled  so  and  bowed  so  many  times,  but  in 
the  end  he  was  firm,  and  bade  me  turn  the  buggy 
around.  Even  then,  with  his  foot  on  the  step,  he 
lingered  to  speak  another  word,  though  never  seeming 
to  utter  what  came  into  his  mind.  At  last  we  drove 
away,  and  the  moment  my  back  was  turned,  the  girl 
was  only  a  shadow  lying  across  my  memory;  and  it 
worried  me.  I  could  look  at  as  delicate  a  thing  as  a 
flower  and  in  my  mind  could  reproduce  its  form  and 
its  hue,  but  that  woman  was  a  blur  to  her  own  image. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her,  Dan?"  Bob  asked  as 
we  drove  toward  home.  "Tell  me  exactly  what  you 
think." 

"She  is  beautiful,  sir,"  I  replied,  "but  somehow  her 
features  refuse  to  remain  with  me." 

"They  remain  with  me — black  eyes,  black  hair,  rose- 
leaf  ears.  She  is  an  oration  of  the  ancients  set  forth  in 
nineteenth  century  flesh  and  blood." 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  assented,  with  my  mind  on  the  old  man, 
"but  I  don't  think  much  of  her  stock,  as  Mr.  Clem 
might  say." 

He  snatched  the  lines  from  me,  lashed  the  horse  to 
a  fierce  trot,  and  looked  at  me  as  I  sat  with  my  hands 
fallen  in  idle  submission.  "Dan,  what's  the  matter  with 

you?  You  are  getting  to  be  a  d cynic.  Don't 

like  her  stock!  I  suppose  you  mean  her  father?  He 
has  had  to  work  his  way,  no  doubt,  and  may  not  have 
read  as  many  fine  books  as  certain  fellows  who  have 
been  pampered,  but  he  is  a  gentleman.  Do  you  hear 
(216) 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  217 

me?"    He  lashed  the  horse.    "Do  you  hear  what  I 
say?" 

"If  you  say  he  is  a  gentleman,  he  is,  Mars.  Bob." 
"But  why  the  devil  don't  you  make  discoveries  of 
your  own?" 

"I  do,  but  I  have  not  found  the  North  Pole." 
"What  do  you  mean  by  that?  Mean  that  as  a  gen 
tleman  Mr.  Potter  is  a  North  Pole  to  you  and  is  there 
fore  beyond  your  discovery?  Is  that  what  you  mean?" 
At  this  instant  my  wretchedness  must  have  smitten 
him.  He  pulled  the  horse  back  to  a  walk;  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  mine,  limp  in  my  lap,  and  said:  "Dan,  I 
was  a  brute  to  talk  that  way  when  you've  been  so  sick. 
You  are  right.  The  old  fellow  is  as  ignorant  as  a  boar 
but  love  poured  a  basket  of  flowers  over  him. 
Please  don't  try  to  apologize — I'd  rather  you'd  hit  me 
than  to  do  that.  Yes,  the  old  man  is  ignorant  and 
coarse  but  the  girl  is  intelligent  and  refined.  Look 
there,"  he  added,  pointing  with  his  buggy  whip,  "you 
see  a  flower  with  a  weed  as  its  parent.  The  weed  has 
done  some  good,  for  it  has  brought  forth  the  flower, 
and  after  all  it  must  have  held  an  unconscious  refine 
ment.  Here,  you  take  the  lines  and  drive,  just  as  you 
were  doing  back  there,  and  don't  think  of  what  I  said. 


218  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

Now,  you  see,  we  are  going  along  just  as  if  nothing 
had  happened." 

The  fire  and  the  tenderness  of  that  boy!  A  passion 
almost  mad,  and  a  gentleness  nearly  as  soft  as  a  young 
mother's  religion,  seeking  to  possess  him!  I  felt  even 
then  that  he  was  not  fitted  to  grapple  with  stern  suc 
cess.  Was  intuition  preparing  me  for  a  trial  to  come, 
a  struggle  waiting  down  the  mystic  road?  Nature 
may  seem  to  mock  her  own  endeavors,  but  I  believe 
she  creates  with  a  purpose,  though  the  purpose  may 
remain  hidden  until  the  end.  Nature  is  pressed 
upon  our  many  moods,  and  one  mood  may 
strive  to  pull  down  the  work  wrought  by 
another  mood.  One  bent  of  nature  must  have  had  a 
glorious  career  marked  out  for  Young  Master,  though 
another  bent — but  of  this  I  will  not  speak.  It  is  bad 
enough  that  it  should  be  told  in  even  the  proper  place. 

That  day  for  dinner  there  were  several  guests, 
among  them  old  'Squire  Boyle,  now  grown  quite 
feeble.  I  had  been  permitted  to  leave  off  the  service 
of  standing  behind  Young  Master's  chair,  but  on  occa 
sions  my  help  was  really  needed,  so  I  took  my  old 
place  in  the  dining-room.  It  was  not  expected  that 
even  this  little  gathering  could  be  wholly  at  peace 
with  itself.  There  was  a  rumble,  North  and  South 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  219 

and  disputatious  vapors  floated  in  the  air.  And  rea 
son,  among  the  party  leaders,  had  given  way  to  fierce 
gesticulation,  and  a  strife  to  say  something,  not  to 
convince  but  to  cut  an  adversary.  I  remember  that 
old  man  Boyle  paused  with  his  mouth  full  of  a  turkey's 
white  meat  to  listen  to  a  remark  made  by  Old  Master. 

"Sir,"  said  the  'squire,  after  swallowing  as  if  his 
absorption  had  dried  his  throat,  "the  institutions  of 
this  country  are  tottering,  and  cool  reason  alone  can 
prop  them." 

"And  that's  exactly  what  the  South  won't  listen  to," 
Mr.  Clem  spoke  up.  "The  South  wants  to  block  the 
humane  progress  of  the  world.  She  is  not  satisfied 
with  her  present  unhealthful  domain,  but  wants  to 
shove  her  slave  territory  into  new  lands.  Reason's 
voice  is  but  the  squeak  of  a  mouse,  sir.  They  can 

hear  nothing  but  the  roar  of  a  lion,  and  by  G ,  sir, 

they  want  to  be  the  lion." 

"Clem,"  said  Old  Miss,  "you  forget  where  you  are. 
You  are  not  trading  horses  on  the  turn-pike,  you 
are  seated  at  my  table." 

"Hanna,  that's  a  fact,  I  am  at  your  table;  and  I 
reckon  that  I'm  the  first  one  that  ever  paid  his  way 
here." 


MY   YOUNG    MASTER 

"Oh,  speaking  of  horses,"  interrupted  the  'squire 
with  a  squeak,  "reminds  me,  Clem,  that  the  one  I  got 
of  you  ain't  worth  his  weight  in  last  year's  bird-nests." 

"What?"  Mr.  Clem  cried,  "I  am  astonished  at  you." 

"Yes,  sir,  and  I  was  astonished  at  him;  wouldn't 
pull  a  settin'  turkey  off  her  nest;  lies  down  in  the 
traces  like  he  wants  to  go  to  sleep." 

"Why,  of  course,"  Mr.  Clem  shouted.  "You  have 
profaned  a  fine  saddle  horse.  He's  not  intended  to 
pull;  he's  intended  for  a  gentleman  to  ride,  sir." 

"But  didn't  you  tell  me  that  he  was  a  wheel  hcrse 
and  would  pull  till  both  eyes  popped  out?" 

"Oh,  no;  I  said  I  would  rather  have  him  than  any 
wheel  horse  that  would  pull  that  blindly.  Saddle 
horses,  you  know,  are  of  a  higher  grade." 

"I  was  in  hopes  so,  sir,  and  I  thought  I  would  try  to 
ride  this  one,  but  blast  me  if  he  didn't  try  to  shake  me 
off  him  right  into  the  creek!" 

"Oh,"  said  Mr.  Clem,  "I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  he 
used  to  travel  with  a  circus.  Yes,  sir,  and  an  actor 
used  to  stand  on  him  to  jump  headlong  into  a  tank  of 
water,  and  he  was  taught  to  shake  himself  to  announce 
his  readiness  for  the  leap — " 

"But  he  laid  down  with  me,  sir." 

"Yes,  and  I  was  going  to  say,  that  a  part  of  his  duty 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  221 

was  to  go  into  the  tank  after  the  actor.  A  fact,  Bob," 
he  added,  nodding  at  Young  Master,  who  had  begun 
to  laugh  at  him.  "Horses,  you  know,  are  taught  to 
do  most  anything.  Yes,  sir,  but  getting  back  to  the 
question  of  unrest  now  so  strongly  marked  through 
out  the  country,  I  want  to  say  that  something  is  going 
to  happen  and  happen  blunt,  too.  No  human  govern 
ment  can  long  stand  the  internal  pullings  and  haulings 
that  this  one  is  subjected  to." 

"But  what  is  going  to  be  done?"  Old  Master  cried. 

Mr.  Clem  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Something  is 
going  to  pop  pretty  soon  and  pop  like  a  whip,"  said  he. 
"A  glass  house  is  going  to  be  broken  and  hoar  frost 
will  gather  on  leaves  never  intended  for  the  chill  air. 
The  whole  trouble  comes  from  slavery  and  I,  for  one, 
am  bold  enough  to  say  that  the  end  is  surely  not 
far  off." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  say  it  at  my  table,  sir,"  Old 
Master  almost  fiercely  shouted.  "I  don't  want  you  to 
talk  treason  at  my  board." 

Not  in  the  least  was  Mr.  Clem  offended,  nor  was  he 
at  all  put  out  by  Old  Master's  violence.  "Guilford," 
said  he,  "the  trouble  is  that  the  South  has  got  the 
negro  mixed  up  with  its  religion  and  with  its  notion 
of  good  government.  To  own  a  slave  no  longer  stops 


222  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

at  the  possession  of  a  piece  of  property,  but  becomes 
so  much  of  a  sentiment  that  the  man  who  does  not 
care  to  own  one  is  looked  upon  as  an  outlaw.  And 
if  he  declares  that  he  would  not  own  one,  that  his  con 
science  is  against  it,  he  is  put  down  as  a  traitor  to  the 
South,  seeking  to  overturn  the  American  govern 
ment." 

Old  Miss  threw  up  her  head  and  sniffed  the  unsav 
ory  air.  "Clem,"  she  said,  "I  don't  want  you  to  talk 
that  way  in  the  presence  of  my  son.  Why,  it  wouldn't 
astonish  me  to  hear  you  say  that  a  negro  is  as  good 
(is  a  white  man!" 

'Squire  Boyle  listened  with  his  fork  raised  and  his 
mouth  half  open.  He  had  long  been  suspected  of 
holding  the  views  of  the  abolitionists;  it  was  known 
that  he  had  favored  Henry  Clay's  scheme  for  gradual 
emancipation.  He  had  been  studiedly  discreet,  but 
being  by  birth  a  Northern  man,  suspicion  naturally 
turned  an  eye  upon  him.  Sometimes  when  he  must 
have  felt  that  his  silence  was  eating  him  like  an  internal 
cancer,  he  had  come  to  Old  Master  to  be  bold  with  health 
ful  utterances,  but  of  late,  as  the  country  became  more 
deeply  stirred,  Old  'Master  warned  him  to  swallow 
rapidly  whenever  he  felt  a  strong  disposition  to  talk 
upon  the  subject  of  abolition.  And  now  he  swallowed^ 


MY  YOTTNG  MASTER  223 

with  such  vigor  and  rapidity  that  a  stranger  to  the 
precaution  placed  upon  his  speech  must  surely  have 
thought  that  he  was  choking  to  death. 

"  'Squire,  did  you  swallow  something  the  wrong 
way?"  Mr.  Clem  asked,  leaning  over  toward  him. 

"No,  something  wants  to  come  up  the  right  way," 
the  'squire  piped,  the  red  Adam's  apple  at  his  thin 
throat  dodging  like  a  wood-pecker.  "I  want  to  say 
something,  but  I  won't.  But  the  time  will  come  when 
I  will  stand  on  a  hill — I've  got  it  picked  out — and 
bawl  what  I  think.  Guilford,  you  are  fixing  to  scold 
me,  sir,  and  I  must  ask  you  not  to  say  a  word." 

Old  Master  laughed  at  this,  the  old  'squire's  desper 
ate  threat  of  rebellion,  and  had  taken  up  a  bit  of  bread 
to  roll  his  customary  bolus,  when  yellow  Sam,  who 
had  been  sent  to  town,  came  in  with  a  letter.  Old 
Miss  began  at  once  to  speculate  as  to  whom  it  could 
be  from,  and  Old  Master,  winking  at  Bob  and  looking 
at  her  as  he  wiped  his  glasses,  said  that  he  supposed 
he  could  put  the  letter  under  his  plate  and  wonder  a 
long  time  as  to  the  identity  of  the  writer.  "But  hap 
pily,"  said  he,  again  winking  his  mischievous  eye,  "we 
are  provided  with  raeans  whereby  we  can  cut  through 
all  speculation  and  get  at  once  into  the  heart  and  th? 


224  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

truth  of  the  subject.  To  be  brief,"  he  added,  "we  can 
open  the  letter." 

"Well,  for  goodness  sake,  why  don't  you?"  his  wife 
broke  in,  as  she  always  did  when  she  saw  him  indulg' 
ing  a  droll  humor.  "Give  it  to  me." 

"Oh,  no,"  he  laughed,  putting  back  her  hand. 
"There  may  be  secrets  in  this  epistle  that  belong  alone 
to  the  great  free-masonry  of  men." 

"And  your  organization  is  shameful  enough,"  she 
said,  not  without  a  show  of  ill-temper  (for  any  allusion 
to  an  understanding  in  which  she  was  not  included 
always  appeared  to  cut  her).  "But  I  must  acknowl 
edge  its  rare  perfection  as  an  organization,"  she  went 
on.  "Its  devotees  do  not  have  to  be  sworn,  unless 
nature  swears  them  at  birth." 

By  this  time  the  single  leaf  of  the  letter  was  shaking 
under  Old  Master's  gaze.  "Read  it,"  he  said  huskily, 
handing  it  to  Bob.  And  he  bowed  his  head  over  the 
table.  The  note  was  from  Miss  May.  It  told  us 
that  her  husband  was  dead,  and  that  she,  with  her  little 
child,  was  about  to  start  for  home. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

Everything  was  put  in  order,  the  house  cleaned  and 
the  cabins  newly  whitewashed,  to  brighten  the  place 
for  the  daughter's  return.  But  the  day  looked  dull 
when  she  came  with  the  little  child  crying  in  the 
nurse's  arms.  There  were  tears  and  embraces  and 
tremulous  words  of  love. 

On  the  steps  my  Young  Mistress  turned  to  the  nurse 
and  said,  "Give  her  to  me,  Titine."  And  at  this 
moment  I  felt  that  an  arrow  from  a  bow  in  the  sky  had 
shot  through  me.  Titine!  I  did  not  know  that  the 
world  had  presumed  to  hold  a  beauty  and  a  charm  so 
exquisite.  Her  complexion  was  as  the  richest  cream, 
her  hair  showed  the  merest  suggestion  of  a  waver 
rather  than  a  negro  kink,  her  eyes  were  black-blue, 
and  her  lips — Was  it  Solomon  who  said  "her  lips  are 
as  a  thread  of  scarlet"?  I  was  a  man  now,  grown  to 
full  strength  and  passion — from  the  moment  I  saw  that 
French,  Spanish,  negro,  Anglo-Saxon  girl.  Never 
before  had  I  seen  anyone  to  thrill  me;  surely  not  a 
ncgress,  and  certainly  I  had  not  presumed  to  acknowl- 


226  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

edge  the  charms  of  a  white  woman.  I  did  not  fall  at 
once  in  love  with  Titine ;  I  was  too  excited,  too  breath 
less  as  I  gazed  upon  her.  I  reminded  myself  of  an 
animal,  beholding  for  the  first  time  a  female  of  his  own 
species — and  I  verily  believe  that  I  felt  a  desire  to 
throw  my  head  up  and  scream  like  a  panther. 

"Dan,"  Old  Miss  cried,  "why  don't  you  bring  in  the 
things?  What  do  you  want  to  stand  there  for  like  a 
chicken  with  the  gapes?" 

In  this  comparison  there  was  something  so  appro 
priate  that  I  could  not  suppress  a  laugh,  though  I  took 
care  to  hide  it  from  Old  Miss.  Miss  May  turned  to 
the  girl  and  told  her  to  help  me  bring  in  the  bags,  but 
Old  Miss  objected.  "Let  her  rest,  May,"  she  said. 
"Dan  hasn't  been  doing  a  thing.  He's  pretty  much  as 
you  left  him — scarcely  worth  his  salt." 

This  was  a  fine  recommendation  to  Titine,  and  I 
felt  the  blood  mount  to  my  face,  as  I  turned  toward  the 
carriage  at  the  gate.  But  I  glanced  back  and  saw  the 
girl  following  me  with  her  eyes;  and  I  wondered,  self 
ishly  enough,  why  she  had  not  insisted  upon  helping 
me,  though  I  needed  no  assistance,  for  I  was  strong- 
enough  at  that  moment  to  seize  all  the  bags  at  once 
and  hurl  them  over  ti*e  house. 

I  saw  but  little  ©f  Titine  that  afternoon  (or  evening 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  227 

aswetermed  it),  for  the  child  was  fretful  and  put  a  claim 
upon  nearly  all  her  time,  but  I  heard  her  singing  in  a 
room  down  the  hall  from  our  "office,"  and  I  stepped 
about,  keeping  quick  time  with  the  tingling  leap  of 
my  blood.  At  the  supper  hour  she  came  down  to 
stand  behind  Miss  May,  and  I  marched  boldly  into 
the  dining-room,  delighted  now  to  resume  a  menial 
service.  I  stood  beside  her,  but  alas!  with  what 
scorn  did  she  look  at  me.  The  child  began  to  cry 
and  she  was  sent  above,  and  it  was  then  that  I  began  to 
hear-something  of  her  history.  She  had  belonged  to 
Marston's  maiden  sister,  a  peculiar  creature  who  had 
cared  for  nothing  but  Titine  and  a  white  woolly  dog. 
The  dog  died  and  the  mistress,  doubling  her  affection 
for  the  girl,  sent  her  to  a  convent  to  be  educated, 
greatly  to  the  scandal  of  her  associates.  At  the  old 
woman's  death,  of  recent  date,  the  girl  had  fallen  to 
Marston.  She  complained  at  this  transfer,  declaring 
that  her  mistress  had  drawn  up  a  paper  to  set  her  free, 
but  the  paper  could  not  be  found,  so  she  was  com 
pelled  to  submit,  stubbornly  at  first,  but  after  a  while 
becoming  so  much  attached  to  Miss  May  that  she 
rejoiced  in  her  good  fortune. 

"She  knows  as  much  and  is  a  far  better  talker  than 
I  am,"  said  Miss  May. 


228  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"Daughter,  you  must  not  say  that,"  Old  Miss 
objected.  "It  cannot  be  true  and  it  surely  is  not 
right." 

"Very  well,  mother,  I  won't  say  it  again,  but  you 
will  soon  find  out  for  yourself." 

Then  they  all  fell  into  a  family  talk,  the  sudden 
death  of  Marston  and  the  entanglement  in  which  his 
affairs  were  likely  to  be  found.  He  was  not  a  good 
manager,  never  knew  what  his  income  was,  and  was 
always  in  debt.  But  he  was  so  kind-hearted — and 
here  Miss  May  wept  and  the  subject  was  changed. 

Immediately  after  supper  young  master  dressed 
himself  to  call  on  Miss  Potter,  and  when  he  was  gone 
I  threw  aside  my  senseless  book  and  went  down  into 
the  yard,  to  dodge  behind  the  trees  at  the  corner  of 
the  house,  hoping  to  catch  sight  of  Titine  on  the  ver 
anda.  At  last  she  came  out,  with  a  .red  cap  on  her 
head,  and  stood  with  her  hands  resting  on  the  balus 
trade,  looking  far  away  at  the  dying  pink  in  the  sky, 
I  stepped  out  boldly  and  touched  my  hat.  She 
glanced  down  at  me  and  tossed  her  head-  Bui  I  knew 
that  she  was  not  displeased. 

"Beautiful  evening,"  I  said. 

"Indeed!" 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  229 

"This  is  but  one  of  many  of  our  charming  sun-sets." 

"Ah,  then  the  sun  goes  down  every  evening?" 

"Y-e-s,"  I  stammered,  for  she  was  beginning  to 
make  me  feel  foolish. 

"In  the  same  place?"  she  asked,  cutting  her  eye 
at  me. 

"Well,  not  exactly.     But  in  the  West,  generally." 

"Startling." 

"Oh,  not  when  we  have  accustomed  ourselves  to  it." 

"Indeed.  But  tell  me,  is  salt  very  high  here,  or  do 
you  use  a  great  deal  of  it?" 

"I  don't  quite  understand  you." 

"I  heard  your  old  mistress  say  that  you  were  not 
worth  your  salt." 

"Yes,  she  would  say  anything  to  humiliate  me.  I 
inflicted  a  mortal  wound  when  I  began  to  study  with 
my  Young  Master." 

"Oh,  you  have  studied,  have  you?  That  was  foolish. 
I  committed  the  same  indiscretion." 

"If  you  have  studied,  then  it  was  glorious  to  study." 

"It  is  bad  enough  not  to  be  worth  your  salt,  but 
please  don't  be  a  fool." 

"I  can't  help  it.  You  would  rob  a  philosopher  of 
his  wisdom." 

She  lattghed,  and  I  believe  that  had  a  lancet  pricked 


230  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

an  artery  my  blood  would  have  spurted  a  mile  high. 
I  heard  a  sharp  cry  from  the  child,  and  it  smote  my 
heart,  not  that  the  little  thing  might  be  suffering,  but 
that  I  was  to  be  robbed.    "I  must  go,"  she  said. 
"And  shall  I  stay?" 

"Yes,  if  you  sleep  standing  up,  like  a  horse." 
She  was  gone,  and  I  stood  under  the  trees,  gazing 
at  the  cabin  lights;  and  I  waited  there  until  the  lights 
began  to  go  out,  but  the  girl  did  not  return.  I  heard 
Young  Master  ride  up  to  the  gate,  and  I  went  out  to 
take  his  horse.  He  walked  with  me  to  the  stable. 
He  said  not  a  word  until  we  were  returning,  and  then, 
clutching  my  arm,  he  told  me  that  Miss  Potter  had 
consented  to  be  his  wife.  "I  am  the  happiest  human 
being  on  the  face  of  this  broad  earth,"  he  said,  waving 
his  arm  so  as  to  take  in  the  entire  universe.  "And  she 
says  that  she  will  wait  till  I  have  made  myself  famous, 
for  I  told  her  I  thought  that  this  would  be  wise, 
believing  with  some  of  the  great  thinkers,  that  while 
marriage  might  improve  a  man's  judgment,  it  might 
also  put  out  a  part  of  his  fire.  You  know  I  was  born 
with  the  idea  that  I  was  to  become  an  orator,  and  I 
have  not  run  against  anything  to  change  my  opinion. 
I  feel  something  surging  within  me,  and  all  I  need  is 
a  subject.  I  can  be  proud  of  her,  Dan;  I  am  proud 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  231 

of  her,  and  I  must  make  myself  worthy  of  her  pride. 
What  are  you  so  glum  about  to-night?" 

"You  have  seen  the  girl  that  came  with  Miss  May?" 

"Yes,  she  is  a  beauty.  And  she  has  caught  you? 
I'm  glad  of  it.  Oh,  it  seems  that  old  mother  Nature 
is  not  disposed  to  let  us  drift  far  apart.  In  common 
we  felt  many  an  emotion, and  love  came  along  to  teach 
one  of  us  what  the  other  did  not  know.  But  you 
don't  mean  that  you  have  fallen  in  love  with  her  so 
soon?" 

"I  don't  know  anything  when  I  think  of  her,  Mars. 
Bob.  More  than  half  my  life  seems  to  be  compressed 
into  the  few  hours  she  has  been  under  our  roof." 

It  was  getting  late,  and  Bob  went  to  bed  soon  after 
we  reached  the  room,  to  dream  of  a  love  that  had 
leaped  to  meet  his  own ;  and  I  lay  there  listening  to  the 
faint  cries  of  a  child,  and  the  almost  silent  sounds  of 
foot-falls  on  the  floor,  down  the  hall.  In  the  morning 
I  was  up  before  the  sun,  dodging  about  among  the 
trees  at  the  east  end  of  the  veranda.  At  last  she  came 
down  to  freshen  her  eyes  with  a  glimpse  of  the  dawn- 
couch,  purple  with  the  sun's  resurrection. 

"I  am  almost  persuaded  that  you  are  determined  to 
earn  your  salt,  you  are  up  so  early,"  she  said  with  a 
smile  brighter  than  the  new  day. 


232  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"Is  it  because  you  are  from  the  sugar  lands  of  Lou 
isiana  that  salt  is  such  a  novelty  to  you?"  I  asked.  She 
did  not  reply,  but  stood  looking  at  the  hills,  far  away. 

"I  never  get  tired  of  them,"  she  said;  "they  are  so 
strange  and 'new.  We  have  no  hills  in  our  country, 
you  know;  nothing  but  a  level  stretch  as  far  as  the 
eye  can  see,  and  we  know  that  beyond  this  another 
level  stretch  lies,  and  beyond  that,  still  another.  But 
here,  I  don't  know  what's  beyond.  Blue  mystery 
everywhere." 

"Some  time  I  will  take  the  buggy  and  drive  you 
over  to  the  hills,"  I  said,  and  the  light  of  a  new  interest 
flew  to  her  eyes. 

"Will  you?  That  will  be  kind.  But  will  they  let 
you  take  the  buggy?" 

"My  young  master  will  give  me  permission,  and  we 
can  slip  off  from  Old  Miss.  Let  us  go  Sunday,  after 
dinner?" 

This  was  on  a, Saturday,  and  the  length  of  time  lying 
dead  between  then  and  Sunday  afternoon  was  to  me 
a  sunless,  moonless  and  starless  age.  .  But  the  hour, 
the  minute  came,  and  amidst  the  half  contemptuous 
titterings  and  envious  glances  of  the  negroes,  we  drove 
off  from  the  gate,  down  a  lane,  far  across  two  white 
turn-pikes  that  streaked  a  hill  and  striped  a  valley,  up 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  233 

through  a  fern  cove  to  a  dark,  mysterious  spring;  and 
here  we  left  the  buggy  to  climb  a  crag.  She  had  seen 
red  lumps  of  sand-stone,  but  never  had  she  touched  a 
living  rock,  and  at  the  foot  of  a  cliff,  moss-grown  and 
vine-strung,  she  stood  with  her  head  bowed  and  with 
her  red  cap  in  her  hand — a  goddess  in  meditation,  a 
nymph  at  prayer.  I  stood  apart  and  in  deep  rever 
ence  looked  at  her,  fearful  that  my  nearness  might  pro 
fane  her  devotions.  I  had  begun  to  ascribe  to  her  a 
super-human  quality,  a  beauty  belonging  not  to  this 
world,  and  a  virtue  breathed  by  the  ancient  maidens 
who  preferred  death  to  a  tarnishment  of  their  chastity. 
Indeed,  had  there  been  such  an  institution  as  the 
supreme  bench  of  sentimental  idiots,  I  should  surely 
have  been  selected  to  a  seat  upon  it. 

"Is  it  not  divine  here,  in  this  air,  blown  fresh  from 
paradise?"  I  said,  lifting  my  eyes  like  an  ox. 

"Yes,  and  I  wish  we  had  brought  something  to  eat," 
she  replied.  "This  rough  climbing  has  made  me 
hungry." 

"You  hungry!"  I  cried.     "Impossible." 

"Why  impossible?"  And  she  put  on  her  red  cap 
and  looked  at  me  from  head  to  foot. 

"Because  your  soul — " 

"Bosh!"  she  said  and  laughed.     "All  you  Kentucky 


234  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

men  are  alike,  from  what  I  have  read  and  from  what  I 
now  see.  You  try  to  make  love  and  you  declaim  like 
school -boys.  They  laugh  at  such  love  in  New 
Orleans.  Don't  you  know  that  the  first  step  toward 
making  love  to  a  woman  is  to  interest  her  by  some 
thing  you  do  or  say?" 

"And  haven't  I  interested  you?"  I  asked. 

"Why,  I  can't  say  that  you  have.  You  have  been 
very  kind,  and  attentive,  but  I  haven't  seen  anything 
surprising  about  you.  Ever  since  I  came  I  have 
heard  how  smart  you  were,  and  I  suppose  you  must 
have  lorded  it  over  those  poor  ignorant  negroes." 

"Miss,"  said  I,  "I  might  be  ready  to  drop  at  your 
feet  and  cover  your  shoes  with  kisses,  but  you  musn't 
talk  to  me  that  way.  What  little  learning  I  have,  has 
been  a  source  of  reproach  and  trouble  to  me,  and 
never  have  I  attempted  to  show  it  off.  I  don't  sup 
pose  I  could  say  as  much  if  I  had  been  fed  upon  the 
hot  mush  of  French  romances." 

She  turned  about  and  sat  down,  put  forth  her  dainty 
foot,  looked  at  it  and  said  that  hot  mush  was  at  all 
times  to  be  preferred  to  cold  slop.  "Won't  you  sit 
down?"  she  asked,  turning  her  foot  over  so  that  I 
might  see  the  exquisite  arch  of  the  instep.  I  sat 
down,  though  not  beside  her;  and  for  a  time  I  mused 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  250 

in  silence  upon  the  temper,  the  imhealthful  fancy  of 
the  old  maid  who  had  presided  over  the  mind  of  this 
fair  creature.  I  knew  that  in  her  selection  of  a  part 
ner  she  would  look  high,  but  I  knew  also  that  her 
actions  must  ever  be  subservient  to  the  will  of  an 
owner,  invested  with  far  more  authority  than  that 
granted  to  a  husband  by  our  almost  mock  ceremony 
of  marriage.  But  how  high  could  she  look?  Surely 
no  higher  than  the  plane  upon  which  I  stood.  These 
reflections  threw  a  dash  of  old  earth  into  the  counten 
ance  of  my  romance,  and  in  bitterness  I  laughed  at 
myself  and  at  her. 

"What  has  tickled  you  so?"  she  asked. 

"Two  fools,"  I  replied. 

"Two  fools,  or  one  fool  big  enough  for  two?" 

"Two  fools,"  I  repeated.  "We  are  owned  body  and 
soul,  and  even  sentiment,  the  gift  of  God,  comes  to 
mock  us." 

In  an  instant  she  had  planted  her  feet  firmly  upon 
the  ground  and  was  standing  in  front  of  me.  "I  can 
begin  to  detect  a  glimmering  of  sense  in  you,"  she  said. 
"In  a  negro's  courtship  there  can  be  nothing  absurd," 
she  went  on,  flooding  me  with  the  light  from  her  eyes. 
"An  hour's  acquaintance  is  as  good  as  a  year's  close 
relationship.  He  is  an  animal  looking  for  a  mate  and 


236  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

he  makes  his  proposal  of  marriage.  He  may  already 
have  a  dozen  wives,  it  makes  no  difference,  for  neither 
law  nor  society  takes  any  account  of  his  relations  with 
women.  My  mistress  was  a  sensible  woman,  and  she 
taught  me  to  hate  a  negro  marriage  and  I  do  hate  it. 
I  have  the  instincts  of  a  lady  and  I  refuse  to  be  an 
animal.  I  saw  at  once  that  you  were  determined  to 
ask  me  to  be  your  wife  and  I  am  glad  you  have  given 
me  a  chance  to  head  you  off." 

Strange  talk  for  a  maiden,  there  on  a  hill,  under  a 
cliff  overlooking  broad  Kentucky.  I  might  have 
expected  it  from  a  wrinkled  hag,  a  sibyl,  but  from  this 
ripe  and  creamy  maid  it  came  as  a  blunt  blow  upon  the 
head. 

"There  is  truth  in  what  you  say,"  I  was  forced  to 
admit,  "but  ours  would  not  be  a  common  negro  mar 
riage." 

"No,  but  you  are  making  the  courtship  character 
istically  negro.  Do  you  reflect  upon  how  short  a  time 
we  have  known  each  other?" 

"Titine,  this  suddenness  is  not  negro — it  is  impulse 
and  romance.  How  long  did  Romeo  know  Juliet?" 

"And  what  came  of  their  love  but  death?  Dan,  we 
can  be  good  friends,  brother  and  sister,  but  you  must 
not  ask  rne  to  go  through  with  a  mock  ceremony,  the 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  £31 

sentimental  joke  of  a  plantation,  and  pretend  that  I 
am  your  wife.  When  we  reflect  upon  our  condition 
we  must  be  miserable.  Education  has  made  us 
unhappy,  except  when  we  lose  our  minds  in  a  book; 
and  to  unite  two  miseries,  two  conditions  of  helpless 
ness — a  crime!"  she  cried.  "Yes,  I  have  read  French 
romances.  Year  after  year  I  sat  beside  my  mistress 
and  read  to  her  and  listened  to  her  remarks  upon  'the 
phases  of  life  that  came  under  our  view.  She  called 
me  precocious — a  reflex  of  her  own  mind.  My  mind 
was  apt  and  it  stored  many  images  and  caught  many  a 
color  from  my  surroundings,  and — but  what  is  the  use 
of  talking  about  myself?" 

"Titine,  listen  to  me.  Something  tells  me  that  the 
world  will  not  always  be  thus,  holding  the  worshippers 
of  nature  in  a  grip  of  bondage — " 

"Hush!"  she  cried,  putting  her  hands  to  her  ears. 
"When  you  have  changed  the  subject  I  will  listen  to 
you." 

"You  will  listen  now!"  I  cried,  springing  to  my  feet, 
grasping  her  hands,  holding  them  tight,  bending  her 
backward,  gazing  into  her  eyes.  "You  will  listen  to 
me  now."  Her  eyes  darted  forked  tongues  at  mine, 
and  I  liberated  her.  She  smiled  and  sat  down. 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"Yes,"  she  said  sweetly,  her  anger  vanishing,  "I  will 
listen  to  you  now." 

"First,  let  me  beg  your  pardon." 

"Oh,  another  mockery.  Let  us  skip  that.  Let  me 
near  your  speech;  you  are  a  lawyer." 

"I  will  not  make  the  speech  of  a  lawyer,  but  of  a 
tover." 

"You  can't  love.  You  are  a  negro."  She  said  this 
with  bitterness  and  her  laugh  was  cold. 

"Titine,  even  an  animal  can  love." 

"Oh,  for  a  season,  yes;  but  nature  does  not  make  a 
mockery  of  an  animal's  love.  The  animal  can  seize  its 
young  and  run  away,  but  if  the  negro  runs  away  to 
protect  his  young,  he  is  brought  back  with  the  hounds. 
Dan,  I  am  going  to  live  as  my  mistress  did,  and  no 
man  shall  have  a  claim  on  me." 

"But  Titine,  you  are  a  human  being,  you  have  pas 
sion,  the  sense  of — " 

"Sense  of  justice  to  myself  and  to  those  who  might 
come  after  me." 

"Titine,  you  are  not  a  girl,  you  are  a  beautiful  witch. 
You  know  too  much  for  one  of  your  age — your  shriv 
elled  old  mistress  left  you  her  mind;  and  she  is  now 
watching  you — " 

"Ugh!"  she  cried,  putting  out  her  hands,  "don't  say 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  239 

that.  But  if  she  does  watch  me  she  will  see  that  I 
follow  her  commands." 

"But  her  commands  were  against  your  interests. 
She  would  shut  you  out  from  all  enjoyment,  from  sen 
timent  and  from  love.  Thank  her  for  her  kindness 
but  rebel  against  her  exactions.  Be  my  wife." 

"Poor  fool,"  she  said,  clasping  her  hands,  over  her 
knee  and  gazing  at  me.  "You  are  not  a  man  to  have 
a  wife ;  you  are  a  piece  of  property,  and  no  matter  how 
tightly  I  might  cling  to  you,  you  could  be  torn  from 
me  and  sold,  and  the  howl  of  the  auctioneer,  yelling  for 
another  animal  to  be  brought  forward,  would  drown 
my. cries  of  distress.  Oh,  I  have  stood  in  the  slave 
market,  and  I  have  seen  a  child  snatched  from  the 
arms  of  its  heart-broken  mother.  Old  Mistress  used 
to  take  me  there  to  show  me  the  bitterness  of  life. 
And  you  would  be  the  father  of  a  stock  to  be  sold! 
Poor  fool,  put  your  foot  on  such  a  thought."  She 
rocked  herself  and  laughed,  and  upon  my  soul,  for  a 
moment  I  fancied  that  she  was  a  witch,  endowed  with 
a  frightful  wisdom;  but  a  bough  moved,  the  strong 
light  fell  upon  her,  and  she  sat  there,  warm,  rich  and 
human. 

"Have  you  given  your  strange  views  to  Miss  May?" 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

"There  are  two  children  in  our  family  and  one  of 
them  is  Miss  May,"  she  said. 

"But  don't  you  read  to  her?" 

"Yes,  the  'Children  of  the  Abbey'  and  let  her  cry 
herself  to  sleep.  She  is  a  child." 

"Titine,  there  is  strange  blood  in  you;  you  are  Cleo 
patra  come  to  earth  again;  and  the  serpent  of  slavery 
is  at  your  breast." 

She  shuddered. 

"And  it  may  suck  out  my  life,  but  mine  alone,"  she 
said. 

"Titine,  a  week  ago  I  could  not  have  believed  it  pos 
sible  to  be  placed  in  such  a  position ;  I  could  not  have 
believed  that  a  creature  like  you  existed  in  the  world. 
The  knowledge  of  slavery  has  always  been  a  burden; 
you  make  it  a  snake  and  it  bites  me.  But  tell  me, 
what  are  you  going  to  do?  Are  you  going  to  spend 
your  life  in  servitude?" 

"Who  is  there  to  take  me  away?"  she  asked,  and  the 
look  she  gave  me  stilled  my  blood,  but  it  flowed  again 
with  a  spurt,  and  leaping  to  my  feet  I  ran  to  the  edge 
of  the  cliff  and  looked  far  below,  at  the  lengthening 
shadows,  the  crows  sailing  round  and  round,  the  cattle 
feeding  in  a  distant  meadow.  I  turned  back  to  her. 
She  did  not  look  at  me.  I  sat  down  beside  her, 


MT  YOUNG   MASTER  241 

sought  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  moved  and  motioned 
me  away. 

"Titine,  once  I  thought  I  saw  a  hangman's  rope — 
the  maids  have  told  you  a  part  of  the  story — and 
money  was  thrown  at  me,  but  I  would  not  run  away 
so  deeply  was  I  devoted  to  Bob  Gradley,  I  thought 
that  the  devil  was  trying  to  tempt  mfc,  but  now  I 
believe  that  the  temptation  comes  from  God." 

"You  have  misunderstood  me,"  she  said,  and  her 
words  were  freezing.  "I  would  not  suggest  a  temp* 
tation;  I  would  not  run  away  with  you.  I  will  be 
frank — I  don't  love  you,  and  if  I  did,  I  would  not  run 
away  to  be  brought  back  in  shame.  L^t  us  be  fellow 
servants,  Dan?" 

"But  is  there  no  hope  left  in  the  world?" 

"Do  you  read  the  Bible,  and  do  yon  find  hope 
there?" 

"Come,  let  us  go  home,"  I  said. 


Now  came  a  political  contest  to  shame  the  short 
sightedness  of  the  wise  men  who  framed  our  consti 
tution.  I  do  not  say  this  in  disparagement  of  a  broad 
and  liberty-loving  principle,  the  Jeffersonian  principle 
that  made  demagogic  men  too  strong  and  government 
too  weak,  but  I  do  say,  as  all  men  now  must  know, 
that  advantage  was  taken  of  the  theory  of  states  rights, 
beast-headed  fallacy ;  and  I  do  aver  that  Hamilton  was 
the  wisest  man  that  saw  the  birth  of  our  nation.  But 
this  is  simply  seeking  to  make  noon-day  clear. 

Never  was  there  a  campaign  of  such  heat  and  bitter 
ness.  Households  were  divided  and  brothers  frowned 
upon  one  another,  and  in  the  distance  hovered  the 
vulture-shaped  cloud  of  war.  My  Young  Master  sup 
ported  Kentucky's  favorite  son,  as  did  Old  Master, 
and  for -months  our  house  bore  the  appearance  of  a 
committee  room.  The  time  came  for  Bob  to  display 
his  power  as  an  orator,  and  never  was  there  a  nobler 
effort.  It  was  in  the  court-house  yard.  Great  men 
had  spoken  before  the  boy  arose  to  address  the  crowd. 

(942) 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  243 

I  was  standing  near,  and  I  thought  that  I  saw  his 
blood  leap;  I  know  that  his  eye  shot  fire  at  me.  His 
first  sentence  caught  the  assembly,  the  lawyers,  the 
doctors  and  the  sturdy  yeomen.  I  cannot  recall  it; 
I  will  not  try,  but  I  know  that  it  tingled  through  me. 
Since  then  I  have  listened  to  many  a  speech;  I  have 
heard  Wendell  Phillips  and  the  great  men  in  Congress, 
but  never  have  I  been  bound  by  the  spell  of  such 
impassioned  eloquence.  To  me  his  words  lost  their 
literal  meaning — it  was  an  outpour  of  passion  and 
emotion.  The  crowd  went  wild,  and  when  the  orator 
stepped  from  the  platform,  he  was  borne  away  on  the 
shoulders  of  men.  Old  George  D.  Prentice,  author  of 
an  immortal  poem,  was  present  with  genius  shining 
in  his  eyes,  and  the  next  day  his  newspaper  declared 
that  another  great  orator  had  arisen  in  Kentucky,  one 
to  take  the  place  of  Henry  Clay.  It  was  a  glad  night 
at  our  house.  The  trees  were  hung  with  lanterns,  so 
great  was  the  pressure  of  people  come  to  congratulate 
the  blue-grass  Demosthenes. 

Upon  all  these  proceedings,  Mr.  Clem  looked  with  a 
quiet  smile. 

"You  made  a  great  speech,"  he  said  to  Bob,  when 
we  had  gone  to  the  room,  late  at  night.  "Yes,  you 
caught  me,  but  what  does  it  all  amount  to?  I  told  you 


244  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

that  Lincoln  would  be  nominated,  and  now  I  tell  you 
he  will  be  elected." 

"Nonsense,"  Old  Master  cried.  He  was  walking 
up  and  down  the  room,  his  head  high  with  pride. 
"This  country  is  not  yet  ready  for  a  revolution." 

"That  may  be,  Guilford,"  said  Mr.  Clem,  "but  it  is 
ready  for  the  election  of  that  man." 

"Are  you  going  to  support  him,  sir?"  Old  Master 
demanded. 

"Did  you  ever  know  me  to  turn  my  back  upon  a 
friend?  And  he  is  not  only  my  friend,  but  the  saviour 
of  this  country,  the  greatest  statesman  that  this  repub 
lic  has  seen." 

"Clem,"  said  Old  Master,  pausing  and  resting  his 
hand  upon  a  pile  of  books  that  lay  on  Bob's  table,  "it 
is  well  enough  to  praise  your  friend,  for  he  is  no  doubt 
droll  and  amusing,  but  when  you  come  to  call  him  a 
great  statesman,  you  do  injustice  to  the  memory  of 
Clay  and  Webster,  of  Jefferson  and  Benton." 

Mr.  Clem  laughed.  "Guilford,"  said  he,  "you  are 
misled  just  as  the  majority  of  men  suffer  themselves  to 
be  misled.  A  man  brays  with  the  solemnity  of  an  ass 
and  you  think  he  is  great.  Over  a  vital  question  he 
utters  a  senseless  stupidity  and  you  think  he  has  said  a 
wise  thing.  You  don't  know  that  humor  is  the  cream 


that  rises  to  the  surface  of  life's  wisdom.  Lincoln  tells 
a  story  and  throws  a  bright  light  on  a  truth;  he  does 
not  invest  a  subject  with  a  gloom  so  thick  that  no  eye 
can  penetrate  it.  He  makes  all  things  plain,  and  the 
province  of  greatness  is  not  to  enshroud  but  to  sim 
plify.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there;  he's  going 
to  be  elected." 

"But  can't  you  understand  that  the  country  will  not 
accept  him,  sir?" 

"Not  accept  him?  The  people  will  accept  whom  the 
people  elect." 

"But  the  South  will  not  accept  an  abolitionist." 

"Then  the  South  will  have  to  make  the  most  of  it. 
Of  what  good  will  be  her  protest?  You  don't  mean 
that  she  will  secede  from  the  Union?" 

"Oh,  I  hope  not,"  said  Old  Master.  "Surely  not," 
he  added.  "We  cannot  afford  to  throw  away  the  trad 
itions  of  our  fathers." 

It  was  a  sore  subject  to  me,  and  I  was  glad  when 
they  dropped  it.  I  hardly  knew  why,  but  my  flesh 
always  began  to  creep  when  abolition  was  ventured 
upon;  there  was  a  shudder  in  it,  a  threat  of  trouble, 
trial  and  blood. 

Bob  had  shown  no  interest  in  the  talk;  he  had  sat  in 
a  deep  muse,  his  hands  listless  in  his  lap,  his  eyes 


246  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

turned  upward;  but  how  handsome  was  his  face,  his 
expression  sweetened  with  success.  That  day  he  had 
been  lifted  high  and  given  a  glimpse,  yes  a  full  sight 
of  the  heaven  his  heart  so  fondly  craved;  he  was  to  be 
great  and  he  knew  it  as  he  sat  there  dreaming.  Old 
Master  turned  to  go,  and  his  son  came  down  from  the 
purple  clouds.  They  looked  at  each  other  for  a 
moment. 

"Bob." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  have  made  me  the  proudest  man  in  the  State ; 
you  have  done  what  Patrick  Henry  fired  me  with  an 
ambition  to  do.  It  was  denied  me,  and  now  I  am 
rejoiced  to  see  it  fulfilled  in  you.  The  blood  of  old 
Kentucky  shook  your  hand  to-night.  Now  give  it  to 
me,  sir." 

Young  master  arose  and  they  shook  hands  with 
solemn  ceremony,  Bob  turning  his  eyes  away.  "Your 
eye,  sir,"  said  the  old  man,  and  the  young  man  looked 
into  his  father's  eyes ;  and  they  read  each  other  sternly, 
and  with  never  a  sign  of  flinching,  so  completely  had 
each  mastered  himself. 

"Father,  if  I  have  ability  it  is  indeed  the  fulfillment 
of  your  own  ambition,  for  I  felt  it  as  a  child,  so 
strongly  apart  from  my  own  forces  that  I  knew  the 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  24T 

current  must  come  from  you.  I  have  been  told  by  old 
men  that  I  am  a  second  edition  of  yourself  and — " 

"A  revised  and  corrected  edition,  sir,"  the  old  man 
broke  in,  still  gripping  firmly  the  young  fellow's  hand. 

"But  a  cheaper  edition,  I  fear,"  the  orator  said. 

"Enough,  captivating  flatterer.     Good-night." 

Old  Master  strode  out,  walking -hard  upon  the  floor, 
and  Mr.  Clem,  who  with  keen  amusement  had 
observed  this  exchange  of  fine-tempered  civility, 
turned  to  Bob  and  said: 

"By  the  flint  hoofs,  you  and  that  old  brother  of  mine 
will  be  snatched  out  of  the  sixteenth  century  before 
very  long.  Paw  me  if  I  didn't  expect  one  of  you  to 
say,  'I  come  not  here  to  talk,  you  know  too  well  the 
story  of  our  thralldom.'  Bob",  the  trouble  with  the 
South  is  the  fact  that  it  is  not  really  republican  in  prin 
ciple.  It  is  a  shapeless  aristocracy  writhing  about  to 
find  a  head.  Tell  me,  do  you  believe  in  a  democratic 
form  of  government?" 

Bob  sat  down,  leaned  back  and  put  his  feet  on  the 
table,  leaving  Mr.  Clem  standing  behind  him;  and  he 
glanced  back  over  his  shoulder  as  he  replied:  "Do  I 
believe  in  a  democracy?  I  don't  believe  in  the  rule  of 
ignorance;  I  don't  believe  in  a  goldocracy,  the  most 
insolent  and  oppressive  of  all  tyrants.  I  don't  believe 


248  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

it  just  to  give  to  a  plebeian  mob  the  right  to  snatch  a 
brilliant  man  from  public  life  simply  because  he  refuses 
to  grovel  to  a  vulgar  taste ;  I  don't  believe — " 

"But  do  you  believe  in  a  negro-cracy?  Do  you 
believe  that  the  ownership  of  a  hundred  slaves  should 
open  all  doors  to  a  coarse  and  ignorant  man?" 

"No,  I  don't.  I  would  not  let  ignorance  own  a 
slave." 

"Ah,  but  slaves  are  bought  with  money,  not  with 
intelligence.  Bob,  you  are  an  orator,  but  after  all  you 
are  but  a  fledgling.  Now,  I  want  to  ask  you  a  ques 
tion.  What  has  made  this  country  great,  the  gentility 
of  Virginia  or  the  dogged  industry  of  New  England? 
To  whom  do  we  owe  most,  the  silver  buckled  gentle 
man  or  the  steeple-hatted  puritan?" 

"If  you  measure  greatness  by  material  wealth, 
Uncle  Clem — but  there's  no  use  of  such  an  argument. 
You  are  too  practical  for  me.  You  are  a  Baconian 
and  I  would  sit  at  the  feet  of  Socrates.  And  progress 
will  say  that  you  are  right." 

"And  won't  you  say  so,  too?" 

"I  am  not  progressive.  I  worship  the  utterances 
of  the  past ;  you  glory  in  the  achievements  of  the  pres 
ent.  You  honor  the  North  because  it  is  rich,  and  I 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  249 

love  the  South  because  it  is  poetic.  So  there  we  are, 
and  it  is  of  no  use  to  argue." 

"No,  I  reckon  not.  Say,  did  you  notice  an  old 
fellow  with  a  white  hat,  riding  a  chestnut  horse? 
Didn't  get  down  until  you  were  about  half  through 
with  your  speech,  and  then  he  rolled  off,  turned  his 
horse  loose  and  whooped  like  an  Indian.  I  kept  a 
weather  eye  on  him,  and  when  the  bottom  dropped  out 
of  the  proceedings,  I  looked  him  up.  Yes,  sir,  and  his 
horse  is  out  yonder  in  the  stable  now,  and  a  glandered 
nag  of  mine  is  missing.  The  old  fellow  was  so 
wrought  up  that  he  was  in  no  condition  to  defend  him 
self.  So  much  for  oratory.  Good-night,  lad." 

Bob  laughed  at  him  as  he  went  out,  and  remarked  to 
me  that  the  speech  had  brought  good  to  one  man  even 
if  it  had  worked  an  injury  upon  another  member  of  the 
human  family.  "And,"  he  added,  "we  can't  expect  to 
help  more  than  half  of  mankind  at  once.  Dan,"  he 
said,  after  a  thoughtful  moment,  "this  has  been  a  great 
day  for  me.  And  she  was  there,  sitting  in  a  buggy. 
And  when  she  took  my  arm  to-night  I  knew  she  was 
ptoud  of  me." 

I  said  that  her  soul  must  have  been  filled  with  an 
intoxicating  joy,  and  I  lied,  for  I  did  not  believe  that 
she  could  entertain  an  exalted  pride.  I  knew  that  her 


250  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

vanity  was  flattered,  a  hard  luster  in  her  eye  told  me 
that,  but  I  saw  that  her  victory  was  cold  and  selfish. 
I  acknowledged  to  myself  that  I  had  surrounded  the 
young  woman  with  a  prejudice  (and  in  a  prejudice 
there  is  always  more  or  less  of  intuition)  and  I  tried 
hard  to  pull  it  apart  that  I  might  see  her  clearer;  but 
the  prejudice  was  strong  and  could  not  be  torn 
asunder. 

Bob  was  undressing  when  I  left  him  to  go  out  into 
the  yard,  to  walk  among  the  trees.  I  loved  my  mas 
ter,  and  his  success  I  felt  was  my  advancement,  but 
with  all  that  I  was  wretched.  To  hold  aloft  a  light 
that  I  had  found  was  but  to  illumine  a  hopelessness. 

As  I  passed  out  into  the  hall,  I  saw  Titine  step  from 
the  door  of  Miss  May's  room.  She  carried  a  pitcher 
in  her  hand  and  I  knew  that  she  was  going  to  the  well. 
I  walked  slowly  behind  her  until  she  reached  the  hall 
below  and  then  I  called  her.  She  stopped  and  looked 
back  at  me. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"Going  for  water  at  this  time  of  night?" 

"When  water  is  wanted,  the  time  of  night  makes  no 
difference,"  she  said  as  I  joined  her  to  pass  out  upon 
the  rear  veranda.  We  walked  along  together  toward 
the  well. 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  251 

"Titine,  I  don't  know  you  any  better  now  than  I  did 
when  you  first  came." 

"And  I  don't  know  myself  any  better,  and  are  you 
presumed  to  know  me  better  than  I  know  myself?" 

"No,  I  suppose  not.  But  since  that  day  we  went  to 
the  hills  you  have  never  consented  to  go  out  alone 
with  me." 

"Don't  you  know  why?" 

"I  can't  say  that  I  do." 

"Then  you  are  duller  than  I  took  you  to  be." 

The  moon  was  shining  and  the  light  fell  full  upon 
her  face,  upward  turned;  she  was  smiling  and  her 
smile  was  cold.  We  had  now  reached  the  well,  and  I 
unwound  the  chain  to  let  the  bucket  down.  She 
placed  her  arms  on  the  curbing  and  hummed  a  cool 
tune  of  idleness,  of  a  total  lack  of  interest  in  what  I 
might  be  doing. 

"Yes,  I  do  know,"  I  said. 

"Then  you  are  no  duller  than  I  thought  you  were," 
she  ceased  humming  long  enough  to  say.  I  drew  up 
the  dripping  bucket  and  poured  the  pitcher  full.  She 
reached  forth  her  hand  to  take  it. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  I  pleaded,  catching  at  her  hand, 
but  it  flew  away  like  a  bird. 


MY  YOTTN&   MASTER 

"Well,"  she  said,  straightening  up  and  looking  at 
me. 

"Titine,  ii  you  and  I  were  free — " 

"If  I  were  free  I  would  be  a  nun,"  she  broke  in. 
"Give  me  the  pitcher." 

"Wait  just  a  moment.     Let  me  kiss  you." 

She  shrieked  with  laughter.  "Oh,  how  blunt  you 
are.  Look  out,  you'll  break  that  pitcher." 

"Then  I  could  be  classed  with  Gideon's  men.  They 
broke  their  pitchers  before  they  fought." 

"But  you  are  not  going  to  break  the  pitcher  and 
fight." 

"Yes,  I'm  going  to  break  it  and  fight  for  a  kiss." 

"Oh,  what  a  fool  you  are.  What  good  would 
breaking  the  pitcher  do?  Give  it  to  me." 

She  spoke  in  a  tone  of  such  command  that  I  gave 
her  the  vessel,  but  I  pleaded  with  her  to  stay,  longer; 
and  now  I  caught  her  hand.  She  struggled  to  free 
herself  but  my  grasp  was  vice-like.  "Wait  until  I  have 
told  you  something.  Nature  intended  you  for  me  and 
I  am  going  to  have  you — " 

She  spat  at  me  like  an  angry  cat,  snatched  her  hand 
away,  so  strong  was  she,  and  ran  up  the  path  toward 
the  house,  the  water  leaping  from  the  mouth  of  the 
pitcher.  I  caught  up  with  her. 

"Are  you  offended,  Titine?" 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  253 

"Oh,  no,  it  was  too  good  a  joke.  Nature  intended 
me  for  you,  indeed.  Nature  doesn't  know  you,  simple 
ton.  If  she  should  meet  you  in  the  road  she  would 
say,  'who's  your  master,  boy?  Oh,  young  Mr.  Grad- 
ley,  eh?  Tell  him  with  my  compliments  that  he  pos 
sesses  a  very  fine  piece  of  yellow  property.'  Then  what 
would  you  do?  Tell  nature  that  you  wanted  to  marry 
another  piece  of  yellow  property?  She  would  laugh 
at  you  and  tell  you  to  black  your  master's  boots.'  " 

She  bounded  up  the  stairway,  splashing  the  water, 
and  at  the  top  she  turned  to  laugh  at  me. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Over  events  of  national  importance  I  am  compelled 
to  pass  swiftly,  for  in  no  way  am  I  seeking  to  write 
the  history  of  a  struggle,  and  by  giving  only  a  glimpse 
here  and  there  shall  I  try  to  set  forth  the  disaffection 
that  led  to  it.  Lincoln  was  elected  and  for  a  time  the 
South  stood  in  dumb  surprise,  and  then  she  shook 
herself  and  the  nation  began  to  go  to  pieces,  crumbling 
apart  with  secession.  Further  south  it  was  but 
natural  to  expect  that  all  would  go  one  way,  but  in 
Kentucky  there  were  contending  factions  in  almost 
every  household;  and  the  friendships  and  affections  of 
a  life-time  were  torn  to  shreds.  Tennessee,  our 
respected  neighbor  on  the  south,  went  out  of  the 
Union  and  beat  old  drums  under  a  new  flag;  and  it 
was  expected  that  Kentucky  would  follow,  but  her 
grim  old  leaders  set  their  teeth  and  swore  that  the 
commonwealth  should  not  budge  from  her  time- 
honored  allegiance  to  the  government  of  Washington 
and  Monroe.  Old  Master  was  firm  for  the  Union. 
Once  he  heard  a  drum  beating  at  midnight  and  he  got 

(254) 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  266 

out  of  his  bed  and  went  to  town.  And  when  he  eame 
back  his  countenance  was  sad  but  hard-set.  "They 
are  beating  up  men  for  the  rebel  army,"  he  said.  "I 
raised  my  hand  and  in  the  name  of  our  fathers  com 
manded  them  to  disperse,  but  they  laughed  at  me. 
Let  them  go.  The  devil  is  waiting  for  them." 

Within  a  few  days  it  seemed  that  every  accent  of  the 
human  voice  was  a  martial  tone.  There  was  no  talk 

* 

but  of  war.  Brothers  denounced  one  another  in  the 
street,  and  fathers  drove  their  sons  from  home.  Soci 
ety  was  mad.  Over  line-fences  irate  neighbors  gazed 
at  one  another,  gun  in  hand.  Day  and  night  the  turn 
pikes  resounded  with  the  clatter  of  galloping  hoofs. 
Brass  cannon  were  dragged  by  our  house;  men 
camped  under  our  trees,  without  asking  permission. 
Fifes  were  screaming  everywhere,  and  negro  drum 
mers  strutted  about  wearing  the  cast-off  and  faded 
finery  of  a  former  war.  From  the  South  came  the 
startling  report  that  the  conflict  was  begun.  And  the 
drums  in  Kentucky  beat  louder. 

One  evening,  just  as  the  family  had  sat  down  to 
supper,  Sam  came  in  and  said  that  a  man  outside 
wanted  to  see  Old  Master.  "Tell  him  to  come  in 
here,"  the  old  man  spoke  up.  Presently  a  man 
entered,  dressed  and  accoutered  as  a  cavalryman.  Old 


256  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

Master  glanced  at  him  as  he  crossed  the  threshold, 
and  seeing  that  his  uniform  was  gray,  demanded  the 
cause  of  his  visit. 

"The  government  has  sent  me  to  buy  your  crib  of 
corn,  sir." 

"The  government!  I  don't  understand  you,  sir," 
Old  Master  declared,  frowning  at  the  man's  clothes. 

"The  Confederate  government,"  the  man  said. 

"Indeed!  I  didn't  know  that  such  a  government 
existed.  You  may  return,  sir,  and  tell  the  Confederate 
government  to  go  back  to  h — ,  where  it  belongs." 

The  man  smiled,  touched  his  cap  With  a  military 
salute  and  withdrew.  He  had  been  a  neighbor,  but 
now  he  was  a  stranger. 

"Guilford,"  said  Mr.  Clem,  "nearly  everybody  was 
surprised  when  the  news  went  out  that  you  were  for 
the  Union.  You  are  so  strongly  a  Southerner  and 
have  always  tried  so  hard  to  justify  slavery  that — " 

"Sir,  with  me  my  country  is  my  first  consideration," 
Old  Master  broke  in. 

"But  I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  understand  why  you 
should  deliberately  turn  your  back  on  your  own  inter 
ests,"  said  Old  Miss.  "The  South  is  more  your  coun 
try  than  the  North  is,  and  yet  you  turn  against  the 
South." 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  257 

"Madam,  the  whole  country,  the  traditions  of  the 
American  people  are  mine.  And  I  don't  believe  that 
the  government  will  interfere  with  slavery,  but  if  it 
should,  I  say,  let  it  go  ahead.  The  first  consideration 
is  to  save  the  country." 

Bob  had  said  not  a  word.  Many  a  time  when  the 
drums  struck  up  had  he  gone  out  to  walk  in  the  woods 
alone,  and  I  knew  that  a  struggle  was  raging  within 
his  breast,  but  I  asked  him  no  question  and  he  offered 
not  a  word.  Of  late  he  had  gone  forth  at  night,  'some 
times  remaining  away  until  nearly  dawn,  and  in  his 
sleep  he  had  cried  sharp  words,  "right  about  face," 
"forward  march,"  "halt!"— 

"Bob,"  said  Old  Master,  "I  have  waited  to  hear  you 
express  your  views;  I  have  given  you  plenty  of  time, 
but  you  have  said  nothing.  I  know  without  asking, 
still  I  would  like  to  hear  your  say.  Which  side  do  you 
favor?  But  wait,  you  needn't  answer  so  foolish  a 
question." 

"Father,  the  question  is  not  foolish.  I  am  raising  a 
company  of  men  for  the  Confederate  army." 

It  seemed  that  every  dish  and  cup  leaped  from  the 
table.  Old  Master  was  on  his  feet,  then  on  his  chair, 
then  leaning  against  the  wall,  his  face  hidden.  He 
uttered  a  cry  such  as  I  had  never  heard,  a  groan  set  to 


258  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

the  tune  of  despair.  He  turned  from  the  wall  and 
looked  at  his  son,  now  standing  with  his  hands  resting 
on  the  back  of  a  chair.  The  young  man  bowed  his 
head,  and  I  saw  the  tears  trickling  down  his  face. 
Old  Master  dragged  his  feet  forward,  feeling  out  with 
his  hands  as  if  to  keep  from  falling.  Old  Mistress 
stood  with  her  arms  folded  and  with  cold  pride  on  her 
face.  Miss  May  was  pale  with  an  air  of  fright;  and 
Titine,  looking  across  at  me,  slowly  closed  her  eyes 
and  smiled. 

Old  Master  reached  the  table  and  leaned  forward 
with  both  hands  pressed  flat  upon  it,  in  the  helpless 
condition  of  a  man  hoping  and  trying  not  to  fall,  a 
man  who  has  received  a  knock-down  blow  and  who  is 
expecting  another.  His  chin  shook  and  his  old  lips 
worked  and  I  thought  I  heard  them  rasp  like  dry  corn- 
blades  as  he  strove  to  talk.  He  looked  at  Mr.  Clem 
as  if  imploring  his  help,  at  his  daughter  as  if  to  sum 
mon  strength  from  her  gentle  and  affectionate  nature. 
His  body  began  to  sway  like  the  snag  of  an  old  tree 
about  to  fall,  then  stiffened;  and  now  he  stood  unsup 
ported,  straight,  head  high,  in  a  strength  that  seemed 
to  turn  upon  his  years  and  defy  them.  He  spoke  and 
his  voice  was  as  clear  as  the  yelp  of  the  hound  that 
leads  the  pack.  "Robert  Gradley,  your  eye,  sir." 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  259 

The  young  man  raised  his  eyes  and  they  looked  at 
each  other,  Bob  with  an  expression  akin  to  pleading, 
Old  Master  hard  and  cold. 

"Do  you  mean,  sir,  to  tell  me  that  you  are  raising  a 
company  of  men  to  fight  against  your  country?" 

"No,  sir,  not  against  my  country,  but  for  a  principle 
that  some  of  my  countrymen  are  trying  to  trample 
under  foot.  Instinctively  I  hate  the  cold  exactions  of 
the  Puritan.  His  aim  is  not  so  much  to  preserve  the 
Union  as  to  humiliate  the  men  who  own  slaves.  For 
the  slave  he  has  no  real  feeling;  to  serve  his  ends  he 
would  see  the  negro  drawn  and  quartered.  His  hatred 
of  the  men  of  the  South  is  older  than  the  creed  of  abol 
ition  ;  it  began  when  old  Peter  Wentworth  stood  in  the 
English  parliament  and  raised  his  voice  against  refine 
ment  and  gentility.  I  honor  the  memory  of  the  men 
who  made  our  flag  the  symbol  of  a  mighty  nation ;  but 
I  love  poetry  more  than  I  do  commerce,  and  a  senti 
ment  is  stronger  with  me  than  a  woollen  mill.  A  cold 
and  feelingless  duty  might  call  me  to  the  other  side, 
but  emotion,  stronger  than  any  sense  of  duty,  impells 
me  toward  the  South.  It  grieves  me  to  oppose  you; 
it  is  like  boring  tender  flesh  with  a  red  hot  iron,  and  I 
have  wandered  up  and  down  the  woods  at  night  and 
in  the  dawn,  praying — " 

"Theatrical  fool!"  the  old  man  shouted. 


260  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

"No!"  Old  Mistress  cried.  I  have  seen  resolute 
turkey  hens  turn  out  their  feathers  in  warning  against 
a  trespasser  upon  the  sward  where  their  young  ones 
were  squatted.  And  at.  this  moment  Old  Mistress 
reminded  me  of  a  turkey  hen.  "No!  he  is  not  a 
theatrical  fool.  He  has  as  much  right  to  his  con 
victions  as  you  have  to  yours.  You  have  taught  him 
to  be  independent — you  sent  him  from  home  to  school 
when  he  was  a  child  to  teach  him  self-reliance;  and  he 
found  it." 

Here  Mr.  Clem  walked  round  the  table  and  laid  his 
hand  upon  Old  Master's  shoulder.  "Guilford,"  said 
he,  "the  young  fellow  is  honest,  he  has  evidently  suf 
fered  over  the  question,  and  it  is  of  no  use  to  take 
bitter  issue  with  him." 

"By  G— !  I'll  turn  him  out  of  the  house!"  Old  Mas 
ter  shouted,  shaking  himself  free  of  his  brother's 
touch.  "He  shan't— " 

"Then  you  turn  me  out,  too!"  Old  Miss  cried. 

Miss  May  ran  to  her  father  and  put  her  arms  about 
his  neck.  "Please  don't  say  anything  that  you'll  be 
sorry  for,"  she  pleaded. 

He  took  her  arms  from  about  his  neck,  but  stood 
holding  her  hands;  and  his  eyes  werv  not  so  cold  nor 
did  his  skin  look  so  dry  and  harsh.  Not  in  the  least 


was  Young  Master  excited,  nor  did  he  appear  to  be 
astonished  at  the  denunciations  heaped  upon  him. 
Indeed,  it  was  clear  to  me  that  for  months  he  had 
been  expecting  it  and  was  relieved  now  to  think  that 
the  blow 'had  fallen.  The  young  man  spoke  and  his 
voice  was  soft  and  musical.  "If  I  were  to  leave  the 
house  before  the.  time,  comes  for  me  to  go,  I  would 
but  add  to  an  injury  which  you  threaten  to.  inflict  upon 
yourself.  You  would  regret  your  expulsion  of  me, 
and  could  never  forgive  yourself  if  I  should  be  killed. 
It  seems  to  me  now  that  all  my  training  was  to  fit  me 
for  this  step,  rather  than  to  equip  me  for  an  orator — to 
stimulate  my  impulse  rather  than  to  train  my  judg 
ment.  I  will  not  say  that  your  cause  is  unjust,  but 
I  must  say  that  I  cannot  fight  with  the  Puritan.  My 
troop  leaves  on  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  until 
then  I  will  be  your  obedient  son." 

Old  Master  lifted  his  hand  as  if  his  words  were  to 
fall  as  a  blow,  but  Mr.  Clern  took  his  arm  and  eased  it 
down.  "Guilford,"  said  he,  "the  young  man  has  sim 
ply  gone  you  one  better  in  his  worship  of  the  tinsel  of 
the  past.  You  have  taught  him  that  the  Southerner 
is  the  only  real  gentleman  in  this  country  and  you 
can't  blame  him  for  the  course  he  is  determined  to 
take." 


And  now  Old  Master  was  surprisingly  calm.  "But, 
sir,  I  never  thought  to  teach  him  to  join  in  rebellion 
against  his  country." 

"You  didn't  measure  the  extent  of  your  teaching. 
It  went  a  mile  further  than  your  intention.  And  as  it 
has  gone  beyond  your  control,  let  us  make  the  most  of 
it,  or  rather  the  best  of  it.  Let  him  follow  his  own 
bent,  let  him  fight  for  an  aristocracy,  and  let  him  go 
with  a  blessing  rather  than  wjth  a  curse.  That's  the 
sensible  view  to  take.  I  am  going  to  fight  for  the 
Union,  and  I  now  give  him  my  hand,  hoping  that  one 
day  he  may  see  his  error  and  repent  of  it." 

He  stretched  forth  his  hand  and  Young  Master 
clasped  it.  "I  thank  you,  Uncle  Clem.  You  have 
told  me  how  sharp  you  can  be  and  now  you  prove 
how  broad  and  liberal  you  are." 

Old  Master  reached  forth  his  hand.  "It  is  that  you 
may  feel  how  sore  my  heart  is,"  said  he,  as  the  young 
man  gripped  his  palm.  "You  have  wounded  me  and 
the  wound  will  never  heal,  but  you  are  my  son  and  I 
have  been  proud  of  you.  Not  another  word,"  he  said, 
quickly  withdrawing  his  hand  and  lifting  it  to  enjoin 
silence.  "On  this  subject  no  more  words  shall  pass 
between  us;  and  when  the  time  comas,  you  may  go 


MY  YOtfNG  MASTER  263 

your  way  in  silence.  Daniel,"  he  said,  turning  to  me, 
"let  me  see  you  in  the  library." 

I  followed  him  into  the  library,  and  when  he  had 
closed  the  door  he  said  to  me.  "You  know  what  his 
intentions  were." 

"No,  sir,  he  said  not  a  word  to  me." 

"Don't  lie  to  me,  Dan." 

"As  God  is  my  judge,  sir,  I  knew  nothing  of  his 
plans  until  he  gave  them  to  you." 

"And  has  he  said  nothing  as  to  what  you  shall  do? 
Hasn't  he  told  you  that  you  must  go  with  him?" 

"I  tell  you  that  he  has  said  nothing  to  me." 

"But  he  will  ask  you  to  go  with  him." 

"And  I  will  go,  sir." 

"What?"  I  sprang  back  or  I  believe  he  would  have 
leaped  upon  me.  "Come  back  to  me,  sir.  Don't  run 
away  from  me.  I'll  shoot  you  down  like  a  dog. 
Come  here." 

"I  am  not  going  to  run  away  from  you,  Master." 

He  put  his  hands  behind  him,  leaned  forward  and 
bored  me  with  his  eyes.  "Some  men  don't  believe  it, 
but  I  see  the  end  of  slavery,"  said  he.  "And  are  you 
going  to  assist  a  cause  that  is  fighting  against  your 
own  freedom,  Dan?"  His  manner  changed  and  he 
put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "Don't  go  away  and 


264  MY  YOCISG   MASTER 

leave  me.  1  need  you — I  am  a  miserable  old  man, 
looking  about  for  a  prop.  Don't  leave  me." 

I  dropped  upon  my  knees  and  bowed  my  head  to 
the  floor,  and  I  heard  him  sob  over  me.  "I  must 
follow  him,"  I  supplicated.  "I  can't  stay  behind.  He 
saved  my  life.  Listen  to  me  a  moment.  I  killed  Dr. 
Bates — killed  him  in  the  manner  my  young  master 
described — killed  him  to  save  my  own  life.  They 
would  have  hanged  me,  but  he  took  the  blood  upon 
himself  to  .save  me.  And  though  for  months  nothing 
has  been  ;said,  no  one  has  uttered  the  doctor's  name 
in  his  presence,  I  know  that  some  people  look  upon 
him  as  a  slaughterer  of  his  brother,  and  I  know  that 
he  has  suffered,  and  for  me.  Money  was  offered  me 
and  I  could  have  run  away,  but  love,  ignorance  and 
superstition  held  me  back,  though  the  rope  was  ready 
for  my  neck.  Never  but  once  have  I  been  tempted 
to  leave  him,  never  but  once  has  my  heart  found 
a  rebellion  against  him,  and  that  was  a  woman — " 

He  put  his  hands  under  my  arms  and  bade  me  arise. 
I  got  up  and  dared  not  look  into  his  eyes,  for  I  knew 
they  were  filled  with  tears.  "Speak  not  a  word  of 
this  to  a  living  soul,"  he  said,  "Seal  your  mouth,  for 
they  would  hang  you  even  now.  Go  with  him." 

Old  Mistress  opened  the  door,  unable  longer  to  bear 


MY  YOUNG   i/JSTER  265 

the  thought  that  he  might  be  taking  me  into  a  confi 
dence,  and  as  she  entered,  the  old  man  turned  wrath- 

fully  upon  me.  "Yau  can  go  to  the  d !"  he  said, 

his  voice  high  and  sharp.  "You  may  go  with  the 
rebels  and  be  hanged  with  them.  Madam,  this  negro 
boy  is  going  with  his  master." 

"Why,  of  course,"  she  said  with  a  brightening  coun 
tenance,  and  speaking  as  if  I  were  but  to  discharge  a 
trivial  duty.  "He  will  need  someone  to  wait  on  him 
and  that's  Dan's  place,  I  am  sure.  And  besides,  it 
won't  be  for  long.  Everybody  knows  that  it  won't 
be  much  of  a  war.  The  North  will  soon  be  compelled 
to  grant  every  demand  made  by  the  South;  so  for 
gracious  sake,  let  us  not  take  it  so  to  heart.  Come  on 
into  the  parlor.  May  will  sing  an  old  song  for  us." 

"Madam,  I  want  no  song.  The  rest  of  you  may 
sing  and  make  merry  over  the  disgrace  of  my  country, 
but  I  will  not.  Good-night." 

He  strode  out,  Old  Mistress  following  him,  begging 
him  to  come  back,  but  he  went  to  his  room  up  stairs 
and. shut  .the  door.  Surely  no  one.  felt  disposed  to 
hear  a  song,  no  one  except  myself,  as  I  listened  to  the 
old-time  lullaby  with  which  Titine  was  wont  to  soothe 
the  little  one  to  sleep. 

When  I  went  to  my  Young  Master's  room  I  found 


266  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

him  sitting  there  alone.  His  books  were  put  out  of 
sight  and  a  sword  lay  upon  his  table.  As  I  entered, 
he  looked  up  at  me  and  pointed  to  a  chair.  "I  want  to 
talk  to  you,"  he  said,  and  when  I  had  sat  down,  he 
continued:  "I  will  not  compel  you  to  go  with  me — " 

"I  am  going  Mars.  Bob,"  I  broke  in.  He  looked 
at  me  with  a  sad  smile. 

"Dan,  you  are  a  faithful  friend." 

"I  am  a  grateful  slave,  sir.  And  never  but  once 
was  I  ungrateful,  and  then  my  heart  was  on  fire  and 
my  soul  smothered  with  the  smoke  that  arose.  Titine 
laughed  at  me  when  I  asked  her  to  be  my  wife.  She 
said  that  our  marriage  would  be  but  a  mockery,  the 
multiplication  of  miseries ;  and  I  would  have  run  away 
with  her,  but  she  told  me  that  she  did  not  love  me. 
Don't  credit  me  with  more  than  my  due.  I  am  a  weak 
man  and  under  certain  conditions  might  forget  a  great 
favor  and  prove  treacherous.  Don't  trust  me  too  far." 

"I  would  trust  you  to  the  end  of  the  earth,"  he  said. 
"You  are  a  negro,  but  you  are  a  gentleman.  You 
say  Titine  doesn't  love  you?"  he  continued  after  paus 
ing  to  reflect.  "What  sort  of  a  creature  is  she?  What 
does  she  expect?" 

"I  don't  know  what  sh«  expects,  but  T  believe  that 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  267 

she  hopes  one  day  to  be  a  nun.  Her  old  mistress 
poisoned  her." 

He  reached  over,  took  hold  of  the  sword  and  drew 
it  part  way  out  of  the  scabbard.  "For  a  long  time  I 
have  kept  it  hidden  in  my  closet,"  he  said,  pulling  the 
blade  further  out  and  then  shoving  it  back  to  the  hilt. 
"I  was  afraid  of  a  sharper  and  perhaps  a  juster  weapon 
— my  old  father's  tongue."  He  got  up  with  a  shud 
der,  turned  his  back  upon  me  and  stood  at  the  window. 
"The  time  may  come  when  I  shall  acknowledge  that  I 
was  bewitched,"  he  said,  looking  out  into  the  dark 
ness.  "But  her  love  and  her  encouragement  urge  me 
on.  Dan," — and  now  he  faced  about — "Dan,  the 
woman  I  love  is  a  champion  of  the  Southern  cause. 
She  said  that  she  could  not  love  me  if — but  it  is  cruel 
of  me  to  tell  you  of  love  and  of  smiles.  Your 
heart  is  sore;  I  have  long  known  it.  But — " 

"Master,  please  don't  think  of  me.  Do  you  need  me 
now?"  I  asked.  "If  not,  I  will  go  out." 

"Go  and  stay  as  long  as  you  choose,"  he  said. 

Titine  was  singing  to  the  little  child.  The  door  was 
partly  open  and  I  looked  into  the  room.  She  was 
bending  over  the  cradle,  her  long  hair  hanging  loose. 
I  heard  Miss  May  talking  in  Old  Master's  room. 

"Titine," 


MT  YOUNG   MASTER 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  asked,  looking  at  me. 

"Is  the  child  asleep?" 

"What  is  that  to  you?" 

"Please  don't  snap  at  me  that  way.  I  want  to  talk 
to  you— in  the  yard  alone;" 

"I  know  what  you  would  say,  and  you  needn't 
say  it." 

"No,  you  don't.  I  have  something  to  tell  you  that  I 
never  told  before.  I  am  going  away  and  I  want  to 
talk  to  you." 

"Oh,  going  with  your  master?  Poor  fool,  to  fight 
against  your  own  interest,  but  you  can't  help  it — You 
are  a  piece  of  yellow  property." 

"So  is  gold,"  I  declared. 

"Yes,  so  is  gold,  a  piece  of  yellow  property." 

"But  will  you  come  down?" 

"What  is  the  use?    You  have  already  told  me." 

"And  have  you  said  all  that  you  could  say?" 

"Yes,  you  are  a  poor  fool." 

"Your  frankness  will  become  insulting,  the  first 
thing  you  know." 

"Indeed!     Shut  the  door,  please." 

"Are  you  a  human  being?" 

"No." 

"I  believe  you  are  but  a  beautiful  witch." 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  269 

"Thank  you.     Even  witches  like  a  compliment. 

Shut  the  door,  please." 

I  shut  the  door  with  a  slam  and  I  heard  the  child 

crying  as  I  strode  down  the  stairs. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

My  Master's  troop  was  composed  for  the  most  part 
of  young  men  who  had  struggled  with  principle  and 
with  family  opposition  and  who  regarded  it  wise  to 
meet  in  secret  to  prepare  themselves  for  battle.  In 
many  families  the  dividing  line  ran  as  in  our  house, 
across  the  dinner  table.  Sometimes  a  "Confederate" 
and  a  "Federal"  company  would  go  through  with  their 
maneuvers  in  the  same  wood  pasture;  and  on  such 
occasions  the  strictest  dignity  and  decorum  were 
maintained,  with  never  a  jeer  or  idle  word  passing 
from  one  side  to  the  other.  The  quarreling  was 
indulged  by  older  men  and  irresolute  persons  who  had 
great  bitterness,  but  not  enough  nerve  to  impel  them 
into  the  ranks.  From  the  moment  when  Young  Mas 
ter  was  forced  openly  to  take  his  stand,  his  spirits 
seemed  to  rise,  though  my  accustomed  eye  could 
sometimes  see  a  sadness  striving  to  pull  his  gayety 
down,  as  when  he  heard  Old  Master's  voice  or  met 
him  unexpectedly.  Sometimes  they  saluted  each 
other  coldly  as  they  passed,  but  often  they  appeared 

(270) 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  271 

almost  to  forget  the  difference  lying  like  a  shrouded 
corpse  between  them.  One  cool  morning  they  met  in 
the  yard.  By  a  silent  agreement  they  no  longer  sat 
together  at  the  table. 

"A  crisp  and  beautiful  day,"  said  the  old  man,  bow 
ing.  "By  such  a  day  I  am  always  reminded  of  a 
shaggy  dog  we  used  to  own — we  called  him  Wolf. 
Do  you  remember  him?" 

"Yes,"  Young  Master  answered,  his  countenance 
illumined  with  a  sudden  light.  "One  of  his  eyes  was 
brown  and  the  other  blue.  He  must  have  died  long 
ago,  for  he  seems  now  to  trot  around  the  outer  rim  of 
my  recollection." 

At  this  figure  the  old  man  was  so  much  pleased  that 
he  laughed.  "You  were  very  young,"  he  said,  "but 
little  taller  than  old  Wolf's  back;"  and  here  he  fell  into 
a  meditation,  leaning  against  a  locust  tree.  The  dog 
was  still  in  his  mind  when  he  spoke  again.  "On  a 
frosty  day  he  was  always  frisky.  He  believed  that  the 
chill  in  the  air  foretold  a  rabbit  hunt;  and  frequently 
it  did.  He  used  to  come  to  my  door  early  at  morning 
and  scratch  to  awake  me.  And  I  think  he  treed  the 
first  'possum  you  ever  saw.  Old  Simon  brought  the 
'possum  to  the  house,  and  you  asked  him  why  there 
was  no  hair  on  his  tail.  This  gave  him  an  opportun- 


272  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

ity  to  tell  a  story  that  I  heard  when  I  was  a  boy  and 
which  has  been  told  in  every  negro  cabin.  The  Lord 
made  a  raccoon  and  the  devil  was  so  taken  with  the 
work  that  he  was  resolved  to  imitate  it.  Well,  he 
made  a  thing  as  near  like  a  coon  as  he  could,  but  was 
so  disgusted  at  the  appearance  of  the  result  that  he 
seized  the  animal  by  the  tail  and  swung  him  round 
to  dash  his  brains  out  against  the  jamb,  but  the  hair 
slipped  off,  the  animal  escaped  with  his  life  but  with  a 
hairless  tail.  Yes,  sir,  and  I  believed  the  story  until 
I  was  nearly  grown." 

"I  remember  the  story,"  said  Bob,  "though  I  don't 
recall  the  one  particular  'possum  used  by  Simon  as  an 
illustration.  But  I  remember  that  Simon  took  me  on 
his  back  one  night,  out  into  the  woods  where  the  dogs 
had  treed  one.  It  must  have  been  long  after  Simon 
told  the  'possum  story,  for  I  don't  think  that  old  Wolf 
went  with  us.  He  must  have  been  dead." 

"Yes,  he  was,"  the  old  man  agreed.  "I  recollect 
the  night.  A  coon  was  treed  in  an  enormous  oak, 
and  the  boys  were  a  long  time  in  cutting  it  down.  Do 
you  remember,  Dan?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  spoke  up.  "It  was  the  night  that  Mr. 
Bill  Putney  was  killed  in  town  by  Mr.  Tom  Ellis 
Gray" 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  273 

"That's  a  fact,"  said  the  old  man.  "But  how  do  you 
happen  to  associate  the  two  events?" 

"Why,  when  we  came  back  to  the  house,  a  boy  was 
waiting  for  you.  They  wanted  you  to  come  to  town 
and  go  on  a  bond." 

"But  that  couldn't  have  fastened  it  on  your  mind. 
What  else  was  there?  Out  with  it,  sir." 

"Why,  Old  Miss  got  mad  at  me  for  coming  through 
the  hall  and  slapped  me  off  the  front  steps." 

"Ah,  that  was  it,"  he  said,  musing.  "And  it  seems 
long  ago,  even  to  me,  much  longer  than  happenings 
thirty  years  before." 

"Dan,"  said  Young  Master,  "get  my  horse.  But 
wait  a  moment.  You  may  hitch  up  the  buggy  if  you 
want  to  go  over  to  Potter's  with  me." 

"I  don't  care  to  go  unless  you  would  much  rather 
have  me,"  I  replied. 

"All  right,  then;  saddle  the  horse." 

"He  has  a  love  affair  of  his  own,  I  am  inclined  to 
think,"  the  old  gentleman  said,  talking  to  Bob,  but 
winking  at  me.  "How  about  it,  Dan?" 

I  had  turned  to  go,  but  had  halted  and  faced  about. 
*'A  very  empty  love  affair  I  am  afraid,  Master." 

"Tut,  sir,  tut.     There  is  no  such  thing  as  an  empty 


274  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

love  affair  if  it's  managed  rightly.  You  are  too  faint 
hearted.  Do  you  remember  what  the  poet  said?" 

This  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  addressed  him 
self  to  what  I  conceived  to  be  my  learning,  and  I  was 
flattered. 

"You  mean  Pope's  master,  sir." 

"Hang  the  scoundrel,  to  talk  about  Pope's  master. 
He  had  no  master,  or  if  he  had,  he  bought  his  freedom 
with  his  genius." 

I  was  still  flattered  and  I  made  bold  to  venture  upon 
a  criticism.  "Not  with  his  genius,  but  with  his  pains 
and  his  polish." 

"Confound  you,  sir,  go  on  and  get  that  horse,  you 
yellow  scoundrel." 

When  I  had  led  the  horse  round  to  the  gate,  Bob 
and  the  old  man  came  out  talking  in  easy  good-humor. 

"Your  mother  is  mightily  tickled,"  said  Old  Master. 
"She  thinks  you  have  drawn  a  prize.  And  so  do  I. 
She's  a  charming  young  woman,  sir.  But  you  have 
said  nothing  as  to  when  the  wedding  is  to  take  place." 

Bob  had  put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup  to  mount,  but  he 
took  it  out  and  stood  there  irresolute,  as  if  he  knew 
not  what  to  do  or  say. 

"You  haven't  said  a  word  as  to  the  time  set  for  the 
marriage,"  Old  Master  repeated. 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  27S 

"No,  sir.     She  is  to  wait — wait  until  I  come  home." 

A  dark  shadow  fell  upon  the  old  man's  face,  and 
without  another  word,  he  wheeled  about  and  strode 
into  the  yard. 

Old  Miss  came  to  the  door  and  commanded  me  to 
bring  a  stick  of  wood  to  mend  the  parlor  fire. 
When  I  went  in  with  a  log  on  my  shoulder,  I  found 
Titine  sitting  by  the  fire,  trying  to  amuse  the  little  girl. 

"Get  out  of  the  way,  Jessie,"  she  cried.  "Dan,  let 
me  help  you  ease  it  down." 

I  was  strong  enough  to  have  tossed  the  log  in  the  air 
but  I  told  her  yes,  and  I  caught  at  her  hand  as  she 
stood  close  to  lend  her  aid.  She  laughed  and  step 
ping  back  declared  that  I  might  help  myself.  I  put  the 
log  into  the  fire-place  and  stood  on  the  hearth  to 
brush  my  coat. 

"You  ought  to  be  proud  of  your  strength,"  she  said. 

"That  may  be,  and  I  ought  to  deplore  my  weak 
ness." 

"Yes,  you  ought.     Jessie,  don't  go  near  the  fire." 

"And  I  do." 

"Then  you  are  climbing  toward  firmer  ground.  Put 
down  the  tongs,  Jessie." 

"The  ground  may  be  firm  and  yet  slippery." 

"If  salt  were  given  in  exchange  for  words,  you 


276  MY  YOUNQ   MASTER 

might  have  enough  to  sell.  Jessie,  put  down  the  cat; 
you'll  get  all  covered  with  fleas." 

"Titine,  I  believe  that  hateful  and  unju*t  remark 
made  by  Old  Miss  has  set  you  against  me.  You  cleave 
to  it  as  if  it  were  a  piece  of  wisdom  inspired  of  the 
Lord." 

"But  wasn't  it  the  truth?  And  isn't  there  wisdom  in 
all  truth?" 

"No,  it  was  not  the  truth.  It  was  spite.  She  hates 
me  and  you  ought  to  have  sense  enough  to  see  it.  But 
if  truth  were  a  diamond  and  sparkled  in  my  favor,  you 
would  shut  your  eyes  to  it.  I  came  to_  you  with  the 
devotion  of  a  strong  man.  I  showed  you  my  heart. 
I  threw  it  at  your  feet  and  let  it  flutter  there,  and  so  far 
from  taking  it  up  out  of  the  dirt,  you  did  not  even  look 
down  upon  it.  You  have  no  heart.  An  old  woman 
killed  it  and  left  a  senseless  whim  to  vibrate  in  your 
breast.  You  could  have  made  of  me — " 

"Nothing,"  she  broke  in.  "How  could  I  make  any 
thing  of  a  thing  that  could  never  belong  to  me? 
Jessie,  you'll  fall  out  of  that  rocking  chair  if  you  don't 
mind.  I  once  told  you  that  I  have  the  instincts  of  a 
lady,  and  I  have,  and  I  will  not  turn  tipon  those 
instincts  and  mock  them." 

"But  if  you  would  only  acknowledge  that  you  care 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  277 

for  me,"  I  pleaded;  "if  you  would  only  light  a  candle, 
call  it  hope  and  hold  it  aloft,  no  matter  how  far  down 
the  road,  I  could  keep  my  eyes  fastened  upon  it  and 
live  on  faith." 

She  looked  at  me,  whether  in  pity  or  in  scorn  I 
could  not  tell.  But  I  could  gather  no  comfort  from 
her  words.  "Flies  scorch  their  wings  in  the  candle 
lighted  down  the  road,"  she  said. 

» 

At  this  moment  Old  Miss  came  into  the  room. 
"Why,  gracious  alive,  why  do  you  let  that  fire  smoke 
so?"  she  cried.  "Shove  that  log  further  back.  I  never 
saw  as  worthless  a  negro  as  you  are.  To  bring  a  log 
in  and  throw  it  down  right  in  front  of  the  fire  where  it 
can  do  nothing  but  smoke!  Go  out.  It  makes  me 
weary  to  look  at  you." 

She  had  not  the  opportunity  much  longer  to  look  at 
me,  for  on  the  morrow,  Young  Master's  troop,  now  but 
a  play-thing,  was  to  become  a  part  of  ihe  great 
machinery  of  war.  It  was  known  that  we  were  going, 
but  at  the  supper  table  not  a  word  bearing  upon  that 
subject  was  uttered  by  Old  Miss,  Mr.  Clem  or  Miss 
May.  We  heard  Old  Master  walking  up  and  down  the 
hall.  At  night  Mr.  Clem  came  to  the  room. 

"Well,  you  march  to-morrow,  I  suppose,"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  Young  Master  replied,  "we  go,  rain  or  shine." 


978 

"And  I  go  very  soon.  I  am  waiting  for  my  com 
mission.  Having  once  been  a  soldier  gives  me  some 
little  importance." 

"Uncle  Clem,  do  you  think  we  can  get  through 
within  ninety  days?" 

"Get  through  what?" 

"Do  you  think  that  the  war  will  be  over  within  thai 

time?" 

i 

"Yes,  if  the  South  lays  down  her  arms." 

"She  won't  do  that." 

"Then  the  war  will  last  until  she  does.     You  peopl 
have  a  peculiar  idea  of  this  government.     Do  yov- 
think  we  are  going  to  suffer  it  to  go  to  pieces,  tha*  vv>. 
will  submit  to  disruption  as  long  as  there  is  an  arm  tr 
strike?    Why,  the  women  in  this  community,  you/ 
mother  included,  look  upon  it  as  a  pic-nic  excursion 
Dan?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Are  you  going  to  shoot  at  the  men  who  would  free 
you?" 

"I  am  going  with  Young  Master,  sir,  to  do  as  he  bids 
me." 

"He  is  not  going  as  a  soldier,  but  as  a  servant,  Uncle 
Clem," 

"Same  thing,  Bob.     The  teamster  is  as  much  of  a 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  279 

soldier,  when  results  are  estimated,  as  the  man  who 
carries  a  gun.  But  it  is  all  right,  Dan.  No  one  can 
hold  you  responsible.  Bob,  old  Potter  is  a  hot  rebel, 
isn't  her 

"Rampageous;  and  his  daughter  is  making  a  Con 
federate  flag — for  me.  We'll  stop  there  and  get  it  as 
we  pass  to-morrow." 

Early  the  next  morning  our  troop  was  marshalled 
On  the  turn-pike  about  a  mile  from  the  house.  From 
the  rear  veranda  Old  Master  could  see  the  flashing  of 
their  steel.  He  stood  there  gazing  until  Bob  came  out 
from  breakfast. 

"One  moment,"  said  the  old  man,  stepping  into  the 
hall.  "You  do  not  go  with  my  curse,  but  with  my 
wounded  love.  There,  sir,  not  a  word  from  you." 

They  shook  hands,  but  did  not  look  into  each  other's 
eyes.  Old  Miss,  Miss  May  and  Mr.  Clem  walked  with 
him  to  the  gate.  The  parting  was  not  sad,  for  no  one 
of  us,  except  Mr.  Clem,  attached  much  importance  to 
the  war  cry,  the  bugle  and  the  drum.  Young  Master 
mounted  first,  and  then,  turning  to  me,  said:  "Dan, 
I  have  forgotten  something.  Run  up  stairs  and  get 
my  Horace.  You  can  overtake  me." 

When  I  came  down,  Titine  was  standing  alone  at 


260  MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

the  gate.    "They  are  about  to  leave  you,"  she 

laughing. 

"It  would  delight  me  to  be  left  if  I  thought  you-'-'* 
"Too  late  for  nonsense,  now,  Dan." 
"You  have  made  it  too  late  for  sense,  Titine." 
"Of  course  you  blame  me  with  everything." 
"No,  but  I  blame  you  with  one  thing,  which,  after 

all,  is  nearly  everything — the  death  of  my  heart.    But 

why  talk  of  heart  to  a  heartless  creature — Titine,  let 

me  kiss  you." 
"Go  away!"  she  cried,  waving  me  off.    But  I  seized 

her  in  my  arms,  kissed  her  and  sprang  upon  my  horse. 

And  she  threw  a  stone  at  me  as  I  galloped  away. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

How  sadly  were  dashed  the  hopes  of  the  husband 
and  the  lover  who  had  expected  not  a  war,  but  a  mili 
tary  demonstration  to  last  but  a  few  days.  The  cheer 
ful  party  of  decorated  pleasure  seekers  soon  became 
a  sober  army,  stripped  of  feathers,  bent  upon  the  shed 
ding  of  blood.  I  may  be  pardoned  this  egotism,  but 
it  seemed  that  the  South,  more  Anglo-Saxon,  more 
American,  fought  with  brighter  fire  and  bravery  than 

• 

the  miscellaneous  nationalities  gathered  in  the  North. 
I  know  one  thing,  that  the  Southern  soldier  held  the 
foreigner  in  contempt.  He  had,  however,  to  face  too 
much  of  his  own  blood.  But  I  am  going  to  follow  the 
fortunes  of  no  campaign ;  I  am  going  to  be  as  brief  as 
possible.  My  Master  was  promoted  for  gallantry,  and 
soon  was  placed  at  the  head  of  a  regiment  of  cavalry. 
I  rode  by  his  side,  and  I  knew  that  beyond  that  blue 
line,  away  over  yonder,  my  freedom  and  the  freedom 
of  my  down-trodden  race  was  lying,  but  I  was  true  to 
him,  and  was  proud  of  him. 

Letters  from  home  were  very  irregular.    Old  Mas- 


28S  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

ter  did  not  write.  Old  Miss  wrote;  but  never  came 
there  a  word  for  me.  I  wrote  to  Titine,  but  no  answer 
reached  me.  Sometimes,  at  night,  alone  in  the  tent, 
master  would  read  aloud  Miss  Potter's  letter,  and 
though  the  words  were  affectionate,  they  appeared  to 
me  to  be  mechanical  and  meaningless.  But  to  him 
each  sentence  was  a  string  of  pearls. 

For  a  time  the  Confederate  arms  were  so  successful 
that  it  looked  as  if  the  war  might  soon  close,  with  vic 
tory  for  the  South.  But  a  change  came.  The  old  Pur 
itan  stock,  the  old  blood  that  humbled  a  king  and  cut 
off  his  head,  gathered  in  solemn  and  God-serving 
force.  We  had  chaplains  and  held  services;  we  prayed 
to  God  to  bless  our  cause,  but  the  Puritan  mixed 
prayer  with  his  powder  and  brightened  his  sword  with 
a  scriptural  text. 

We  went  with  Bragg's  invasion  into  Kentucky. 
How  joyous  it  was  again  to  turn  our  faces  toward 
home.  We  did  not  think  of  the  blood  that  was  to  flow 
at  Perryville.  One  day  we  halted  within  fifteen  miles 
of  Old  Master's  house.  And  Young  Master  received 
permission  to  visit  his  home.  We  set  out  at  night. 
First  we  were  to  go  to  Potter's.  We  were  cautioned 
to  be  back  by  day-light,  to  overtake  the  army  at  a 
place  called  Elwood.  The  night  was  moon-flooded. 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  283 

The  turn-pike  looked  an  endless  strip  of  light.  How 
delightful  to  see  the  first  familiar  object,  an  old  mill 
where  Bob  and  I  had  caught  many  a  sun-fish.  Now 
we  were  but  a  short  distance  from  Potter's.  We 
passed  the  toll-gate.  The  bar  was  up  and  no  one  came 
out.  We  met  an  old  negro  and  he  told  us  that  the 
people  had  nearly  all  flocked  to  town,  that  they  had 
been  ordered  in  as  a  battle  was  expected. 

"Here  we  are!"  Bob  cried,  and  he  jumped  from  his 
horse  in  front  of  Potter's  house.  A  dog  barked,  but 
there  was  no  light.  He  went  to  the  front  door  and  the 
sharp  fall  of  the  brass  knocker  resounded  afar  off, 
throughout  the  stillness  of  the  night.  He  called  me 
and  I  went  to  him. 

"I  believe  they  are  gone,  too,"  he  said,  his  voice 
choking  with  disappointment.  "Let  us  go  around  and 
see  if  we  can  find  anyone." 

We  went  to  the  cabins  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  AU 
was  dark.  We  mounted  and  rode  on  toward  home, 
silent,  desolate  with  the  realization  of  war's  uncom 
promising  demands.  I  heard  the  creek  and  my  heart 
leaped.  We  turned  into  the  lane.  The  gate  was  down 
and  heavy  artillery  had  cut  the  road  into  deep  ruts, 
here  where  Dr.  Bates  had  lain  under  the  eye  of  the 
law. 


284  MY  YOT7NG   MASTER 

"They  are  all  gone,  too,"  said  master,  "negroes  and 
all." 

"No,"  I  cried,  "there's  a  light  in  your  room." 

We  put  spurs  and  dashed  up  to  the  gate.  The  front 
door  stood  ajar.  There  was  no  light  in  the  hall. 
"Easy,"  said  Bob,  and  we  tip-toed  up  the  stairs.  A 
light  streamed  under  the  door  of  our  "office."  We  did 
not  knock,  but  Bob  shoved  the  door  open.  Then  he 
sprang  back  with  pistol  in  hand. 

"Why,  helloa!"  a  voice  cried.  It  was  Mr.  Clem. 
"Come  in,  boys." 

He  stood  there  in  the  uniform  of  a  Federal  colonel, 
his  sword  on  the  table.  We  shook  hands  and  the 
greeting  was  one  of  unaffected  warmth.  We  sat  down, 
though  not  yet  over  our  surprise.  "How  on  earth  did 
you  get  here?"  Colonel  Clem  asked.  "The  country 
is  full  of  our  troops.  You  took  a  big  risk.  Sorry  the 
folks  are  not  here.  Had  hard  work  in  driving  Brother 
Guilford  in.  Swore  he'd  stay  here  and  let  them  knock 
the  house  about  his  ears.  But,  how  well  you're  look 
ing,  my  boy.  Make  a  nice  prisoner  for  me  to  take 
in,  eh?" 

Bob  touched  the  butt  of  his  revolver  and  smiled. 
Colonel  Clem  nodded  goodhumoredly.  "Bobbie,  so 
far  as  we  are  now  concerned,"  said  he,  "there  is  no 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  285 

war.  But  haven't  we  had  a  time?  Told  you  it 
wouldn't  be  a  picnic.  Come,  don't  be  sad." 

"When  did  'she'  go  to  town?" 

"To-day,"  the  colonel  answered.  "I  saw  her  about 
noon-time.  She  is  more  beautiful  than  ever;  said  she 
had  a  charming  letter  from  you  not  long  ago.  I  have 
been  over  in  Missouri  a  good  deal  of  the  time  lately," 
he  added  with  a  strange  smile.  "Had  a  piece  of  the 
past  thrust  into  my  face  while  I  was  there.  A  fellow 
had  been  court-martialed  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged. 
I  met  the  guards  as  they  were  taking  him  out.  My 
old-time  negro-trader,  the  man  that  robbed  me  years 
ago.  It  was  hardly  the  same  sort  of  court  that  he  had 
escaped  from  in  Illinois.  What  did  I  do?  I  ordered 
them  to  halt — I  ran  to  the  commander  and  begged  him 
to  let  me  have  that  fellow.  I  wanted  to  kill 
him  with  my  sword.  But  they  wouldn't  let  me, 
so  I  had  to  content  myself  with  seeing  him  hanged. 
What  sort  of  stock  are  you  boys  riding?  Now,  I've 
got  a  good  mare  here  that  I  think  would  just  suit  you, 
Bob.  But  I  don't  want  any  Confederate  money. 
Come  down  and  let's  see  what  can  be  done." 

Bob  shook  his  head  and  laughed.  "I  am  to  get 
back  to  my  command  by  daylight,  Uncle  Clem,"  said 


286  MY   YOUNG   MASTER 

he,  "and  I  know  that  if  I  should  trade  horses  with  you, 
I'd  have  to  walk." 

"What  nonsense.  I  want  to  see  you  on  a  good 
horse.  Come  on." 

"No,  I  thank  you." 

"Let  me  show  you  the  mare." 

"Don't  want  to  see  her." 

"She's  a  beauty — got  her  from  General  Buell." 

"Take  her  back  to  him.    I  don't  want  her." 

"All  right,"  he  said,  with  a  loud  laugh.  "Got  your 
eye  teeth,  haven't  you.  Well — what  was  that?  A 
bugle." 

"Come,"  said  Bob,  starting  toward  the  door.  But 
he  halted.  "Uncle  Clem,  give  my  love  to  them  all. 
Tell  the  old  man  that  I  lore  him." 


CHAPTER   XXV  TH. 

The  days  fell  dark  for  the  Confederacy.  It  seemed 
that  the  whole  world  had  sprung  up  in  arms  against 
the  South.  Stronghold  after  stronghold  was  taken, 
and  Richmond  itself  was  threatened.  No  hope  was  left 
to  illumine  the  soldier's  heart ;  he  had  followed  a  bright 
phantom,  year  after  year,  expecting  it  to  lead  him  out 
of  the  wilderness,  but  he  was  becoming  deeper  and 
more  darkly  involved  in  the  thicket,  and  now  the 
phantom  was  fading.  In  his  haversack,  he  carried 
roasted  acorns  and  pieces  of  sugar-cane,  and  his 
enemies,  in  blood  his  brothers,  shook  their  heads  and 
marveled  at  his  courage,  for  he  was  just  as  ready  to 
fight  as  he  had  been  on  the  morning  after  Bull  Run. 
To  face  death  at  morning,  to  shed  his  blood  at  noon, 
to  lie  down  supperless  upon  the  wet  ground  at  night, 
was  a  duty  that  he  was  not  there  to  question,  but  to 
discharge. 

One  night  my  master  and  I  ©ceupied  a  reom  in  a 
deserted  farm-house  near  Richmond.  About  us  lay  a 


288  MY  Y0FNG   MASTER 

broken  army  and  the  scattered  fragments  of  a  civil 
ization. 

"A  few  more  days  will  settle  it,  I  think,  Dan,"  he 
said.  Sitting  on  a  box,  with  one  leg  drawn  up  and 
with  his  hands  clasped  over  his  knee,  he  was  gazing 
at  the  lightwood  sputtering  in  the  fire-place,  and  upop 
his  thoughtful  countenance  a  black  shadow  and  a 
yellow  light  alternately  arose  and  fell.  "Only  a  few 
more  days  and  most  of  us  may  be  shot  or  permitted 
to  go  home.  Who  would  have  believed  that  we  could 
have  gone  through  such  a  time  since  Jane  stood  on 
the  stile-block  waving  the  silk  flag  she  had  made  for 
me.  And  I  can't  carry  even  a  scrap  of  it  back  to  her. 
Do  you  know  one  thing  that  I'm  going  to  do  if  I'm 
permitted  to  go  home?"  he  asked,  his  face  brighten 
ing.  "I  am  going  to  acknowledge  to  father  that  I  was 
wrong,  not  in  fighting  so  hard  after  I  got  in,  but  in  per 
mitting  a  glamour  to  blind  me  in  the  first  place.  The 
most  gigantic  mistake  of  the  age.  I  was  like  you, 
Dan.  I  followed  my  heart  rather  than  my  judgment. 
But  you  are  free.  I  am  your  master  no  longer.  Don't 
turn  away.  I  don't  reproach  you ;  I  congratulate  you. 
If  any  man  deserves  freedom,  you  do.  Better  spread 
the  blankets  and  let's  try  to  get  a  little  sleep.  We 


MT  YOUNG   MASTER 

need  no  alarm  clock  to  wake  us  up.  Brother  Ulysses 
with  his  cannon  will  see  to  that." 

And  with  his  cannon  he  did  see  to  it.  We  were 
aroused  before  the  break  of  day,  and  by  the  time  the 
sun  came  up  we  were  in  the  thick  of  a  fight.  There 
came  a  charge — a  wild  rush,  sword,  pistol,  bayonet — 
and  when  it  had  swept  past,  I  was  on  the  ground 
beside  the  man  whose  fortunes  I  had  followed.  He 
was  desperately  wounded.  The  farm-house  was 
turned  into  a  hospital  and  I  took  him  to  the  room 
which  we  had  occupied  the  night  before.  The  weak 
remnant  of  our  army  was  crushed.  We  were  prison 
ers. 

The  hour  was  late.  Precaution  no  longer  was 
necessary  and  camp-fires  were  burning  everywhere. 
A  surgeon  told  me  that  Master  could  not  live  until 
morning.  And  this  was  to  be  his  end,  in  an  old  house, 
a  prisoner,  the  hungry  dogs  howling  on  the  hill. 

"Dan,"  he  called.  I  was  bending  over  him,  my  face 
close  to  his.  "Are  you  here,  Dan?" 

"Yes,  Mars.  Bob." 

"It's  all  over,  Dan.  And  I  don't  see  how  it  could 
have  been  otherwise.  I  seem  to  have  been  born  for 
this  hour.  Dan,  I  want  to  be  buried  where  I  fell. 
And  tell  them  not  to  disturb  me,  but  to  let  me  sleep 


290  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

there.  Bury  her  letters  with  me.  Tell  the  old  man 
that  I  love  him." 

Early  in  the  morning,  with  the  tears  falling  upon 
him,  I  folded  his  arms  on  his  breast;  and  I  heard  a 
glad  shout  and  the  cry  that  the  war  was  done.  From 
an  officer  in  command,  once  a  neighbor,  I  obtained 
permission  to  bury  my  poor  Master  under  an  apple- 
tree  shading  the  spot  where  he  had  fallen ;  and  assisted 
by  an  old  negro,  I  laid  him  to  rest.  My  heart  was  so 
heavy  that  I  cared  not  what  might  become  of  me. 
Judgment  day  had  come  and  I  was  branded  a  sinner. 

I  built  a  fire  near  the  grave  and  watched  beside 
it  a  whole  night,  wretched,  struggling  with  myself, 
feeling  that  I  could  not  leave  him  lying  there  alone. 
In  the  morning  I  was  ordered  to  mount  a  mule  and 
drive  a  wagon  into  Richmond.  As  I  drove  along  I 
scribbled  a  note  to  Old  Master,  not  knowing  how  long 
I  might  be  held,  and  gave  it  to  a  neighbor  to  give 
to  him.  Now  I  was  in  the  service  of  the  North,  driv 
ing  a  team  of  mules  into  the  city  that  I  had  striven  to 
defend.  But  I  liked  it  not.  I  was  heart-sore  to  hear 
the  babble  of  our  creek  and  to  look  upon  the  colts  in 
the  pasture.  And  after  two  days  of  enforced  labor  I 
was  permitted  to  turn  my  face  homeward.  I  was  now 
even  worse  off  than  the  regular  rebel  soldier.  I  was 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  29v 

looked  upon  with  suspicion.  I  had  no  means  of  trans 
portation  and  therefore  was  compelled  to  walk.  I 
slept  in  the  woods  or  on  the  road-side.  Once  when  I 
went  up  to  a  house  to  buy  food,  an  old  man  set  his 
dog  after  me.  My  money  gave  out  (I  had  started  with 
but  a  few  dollars,  the  amount  earned  by  driving  the 
government  wagon)  and  now  I  was  reduced  almost  to 
starvation.  The  country  was  destitute.  Everyone 
looked  to  the  army  for  food,  and  supplies  were 
delayed.  At  last,  after  days  of  tramping  and  nights 
of  sleepless  hunger,  I  crossed  the  Kentucky  line.  Two 
more  days  and  I  should  be  at  home. 

But  how  cold  and  distant  had  begun  to  sound  the 
word  home.  How  time  must  have  transformed  the  old 
place.  And  all  the  negroes  were  free.  I  scarcely 
could  realize  it.  I  wondered  what  they  would  do 
with  their  freedom,  if  they  knew  how  to  act.  They 
could  not  support  themselves  by  standing  about  and 
proclaiming  themselves  free.  They  must  work  and 
after  all  their  liberty  was  to  be  tinged  with  slavery. 
Thus  I  mused  as  I  moved  with  sore  tread  along  the 
hard  turn-pike,  slowly  entering  the  domain  of  my 
boyhood,  growing  heavier  and  sadder  with  the  sight  ol 
each  familiar  object.  I  came  to  the  old  mill,  gray  and 
green,  with  roof  fallen  in,  with  cap-stones  pulled  down 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER 

by  the  wanton  hands  that  reach  out  to  destroy  when 
a  war-storm  has  swept  over  the  land.  The  creek  sang 
to  me,  not  as  of  yore,  a  sweet  and  poetic  tune,  but  a 
sorrowful  and  hollow-sounding  dirge. 

Onward  I  strode,  limping  now,  for  my  shoes  were 
worn  through  and  my  feet  were  bleeding.  The  day 
was  closing.  The  shadow  of  the  trumpet  vine,  clust 
ered  high  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence,  fell  dark  athwart 
the  white  and  ghastly  pike.  Another  rise  of  ground 
and  Potter's  house  was  thrown  into  view,  red  in  the 
setting  sun.  I  had  to  halt  to  calm  the  tumultuous 
beating  of  my  heart.  I  wondered  if  the  news  had 
reached  her.  Surely  word  must  have  been  sent  from 
Old  Master's  house.  But  it  was  my  duty  to  stop  and 
repeat  his  last  words,  to  tell  her  that  I  had  buried  her 
letters  with  him.  I  dreaded  the  look  she  would  give 
me,  the  tone  of  her  voice.  Now  I  could  see  that  she 
had  been  passionately  fond  of  him.  I  thought  of  the 
sentence  I  had  passed  upon  her  nature,  the  complaint 
that  I  could  not  hold  her  clear  in  my  mental  gaze,  and 
I  repented  of  this  dark  injustice.  Onward  again  I 
limped,  my  eyes  low  upon  the  white  pebbles;  and  I 
did  not  look  up  until  abreast  of  the  gate.  Then  I 
found  myself  among  a  number  of  carriages  and  bug 
gies.  A  score  ©f  horses  were  tied  to  the  fence.  An 


MT  YOUNG   MASTER  293 

old  man  stood  by  the  road-side  and  I  addressed  a 
question  to  him. 

"What  means  all  this?" 

He  nodded  his  head  toward  the  house  and  thus  he 
Answered  me:  "Miss  Jane  Potter  has  just  married  a 
Yankee  general." 

I  tried  to  run,  when  it  seemed  that  I  had  grabbed 
myself  up  from  falling,  and  I  stumbled  away  down  the 
pike.  In  a  corner  of  the  fence  I  dropped  upon  my 
knees  and  cried  aloud.  Merciful  God,  was  the  whole 
world  false!  Long  I  knelt  there  in  agony,  reviewing 
my  pitiable  life,  with  my  master's  image  and  his  blood 
vivid  before  me.  Merry  laughter  startled  me  to  my 
feet.  A  carriage,  followed  by  other  vehicles  and 
horses,  passed  briskly  along;  and  fiercely  I  shook  my 
fist  at  the  carriage  in  front,  and  bitterly  I  wished  for  a 
gun,  a  cannon,  that  I  might  be  avenged  upon  a  black 
and  traitorous  heart. 

Homeward  now  I  turned,  chilled  to  the  core,  pre 
pared  for  anything.  Over  a  fence  I  climbed  and  took 
a  shorter  way  across  the  pastureland.  Darkness  had 
fallen  and  I  heard  old  Stephen  calling  the  sheep,  to  be 
housed  for  the  night,  safe  from  the  ravages  of  prowl 
ing  doge.  I  came  upon  the  little  creek,  weaker  than 
far  below  at  the  old  mill,  but  chanting  the  same  hollow 


294  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

dirge.  I  stood  upon  the  rock  where  Mr.  Clem  had 
found  me  with  his  shrewd  temptation;  and  a  little 
further  on  I  came  to  the  deep  hole  wherein  Bob  and  I 
had  sworn  to  drown  ourselves.  Here  I  stopped  and 
bathed  my  face  and  hands,  lingering,  dreading  to  meet 
Old  Master's  grief-chilled  eye.  Fire-light  came  from 
some  of  the  cabins,  feeling  its  way  and  trembling 
through  the  darkness;  but  for  the  most  part  the  negro 
quarter  appeared  deserted. 

The  door  of  the  "big  house"  stood  open  and  the  hall 
lamp  was  burning.  With  dragging  feet  I  climbed  the 
steps  and  raised  the  brass  knocker,  the  familiar  old 
dragon's  head,  but  did  not  let  it  fall;  so  much  was  I 
in  dread  of  its  startling  alarm.  I  stepped  back  to  go 
round  to  the  rear  veranda,  when  Old  Miss  came  out 
of  the  library.  She  saw  me  and  her  cry  pierced  my 
heart.  Oh,  how  wretched  she  looked  and  how  feeble ! 
And  how  weak  was  that  cry,  a  mere  whisper;  but  it 
rang  in  my  ears  night  and  day  for  many  a  month.  I 
believe  she  would  have  fallen,  I  thought  she  was  fall 
ing  and  I  put  out  my  hands  and  caught  her,  eased  her 
upon  the  hall  settee  and  fanned  her  with  my  hat. 

"Go,"  she  said,  motioning  me  away,  "go  to  your  Old 
Master.  He  is  dying  in  his  room  up  stairs.  Wait,  let 
me  send  him  word.  He  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  get 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

here.  May,  May!"  she  called,  "go  and  tell  him  Dan 
has  come." 

Miss  May,  pale  and  tear-stricken,  had  stepped  out 
of  the  parlor.  She  grasped  my  hand  and  then  hast 
ened  up  the  stairs. 

"Elliot  brought  the  news,"  said  Old  Miss,  leaning 
back  against  the  wall.  "And  May  went  over — over  to 
tell  'her/  Infamous  creature,  she  was  making  prep 
arations  for  her  wedding.  Oh,  this  world,  this  world! 
Oh,  my  son,  if  I  could  only  call  him  back!"  She 
looked  at  me  with  her  head  turned  to  listen  for  Miss 
May's  footsteps.  "I  have  been  the  most  miserable 
woman  in  the  world,  and  a  thousand  times  I  have 
prayed  for  death."  Her  eyes  grew  brighter.  She 
straightened  up  with  pride.  "But  he  died  like  a  hero. 
Tell  me  about  him." 

I  told  her  how  he  had  fallen ;  and  when  I  mentioned 
the  letters  that  were  put  into  the  grave  with  him,  she 
cleared  her  throat  with  the  old  dry  rasp. 

"How  long  has  Master  been  sick?"  I  asked,  wishing 
to  change  the  subject. 

"A  long  time,  but  the  doctors  did  not  give  him  up 
until  the  day  before  yesterday.  They  might  have 
known  at  first  that  there  was  no  hope  for  him.  Why 
should  there  be  any  hope  for  him  or  for  anyone? 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

Why  can't  we  all  get  out  of  this  miserable  world  and 
be  done  with  it?" 

"Have  many  of  the  negroes  gone  away?"  I  asked. 

"No,  not  many.  We  have  hired  most  of  them  to 
work  the  land.  I  don't  see  much  difference  in  them. 
They  are  as  near  no  account  as  they  can  be." 

"It  will  take  them  some  time  to  adjust  themselves 
to  their  freedom,"  I  remarked. 

"Freedom!"  she  repeated  with  a  sneer.  "They  can 
never  adjust  themselves  to  it.  They  think  it  means  a 
privilege  to  take  whatever  they  can  lay  hands  on." 

Titine  was  in  my  mind,  but  I  was  afraid  to  ask 
about  her.  She  had  treated  me  with  scorn  when  I 
was  well  dressed,  and  now  I  must  be  far  below  her 
contempt. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  remain  and  take  ebarge  of 
things  about  the  place?" 

"No,"  she  said,  with  sharp  emphasis,  "you  must  go 
away  and  let  me  die  in  peace,  or  as  near  in  peace  as 
possible,  for  I  shall  never  know  a  moment's  ease. 
Looking  back,  it  seems  that  I  was  born  wretched ;  and 
yet  I  know  that  I  was  happy  until  treachery — but  I 
will  say  nothing.  Oh,  this  miserable  world!"  She 
swayed  herself  to  and  fro,  her  lips  tightly  drawn,  her 
eyes  hard-set.  "But  an  end  of  it  all  will  come  sooner 


MY  YOUNG   MASTER  39? 

or  later,  and  then  we  can  say  that  it  all  amounted  to 
nothing — that  it  was  all  a  nightmare.  Here  comes 
your  Miss  May." 

"Walk  as  softly  as  you  can,"  Miss  May  said  to  me, 
and  then  looking  down,  she  added :  "Poor  fellow,  you 
couldn't  make  a  noise  with  those  tattered  feet." 

I  followed  her  up  the  stairs,  through  the  hall  where 
so  often  I  had  found  the  old  man  walking  in  the  dead 
silence  of  the  night — followed  her  into  the  room 
opposite  our  "office."  At  a  glance  I  saw  my  young 
master's  canopied  bed;  and  upon  it  lay  the  old  man, 
propped  high  with  pillows. 

"Come  here,  Dan,"  he  commanded.  His  voice  was 
weak,  but  I  was  surprised  at  its  clearness.  "May, 
leave  us  alone,  please." 

I  knelt  beside  the  bed.  I  took  one  of  his  hands  and 
he  gave  me  the  other,  looking  at  me  with  an  ashen 
smile.  "Dan,  I  was  determined  not  to  die  until  I  had 
seen  you  and  I  have  compelled  them  to  leave  me  alone 
most  of  the  time.  I  was  afraid  of  company — afraid 
that  it  might  lead  my  mind  off  and  let  death  sneak 
up  and  master  me.  I  was  so  determined  to  live,  that 
nothing  but  my  own  mind  could  have  killed  me." 

How  changed  he  was,  even  aside  from  the  ravages 
of  disease.  His  hair  was  perfectly  white  and  his  teeth 


298  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

were  gone.  His  eyes  were  sunken,  but  they  were  still 
sharp. 

"I  did  not  believe  he  would  ever  come  home,  Dan. 
Something  kept  on  telling  me  that  he  would  not, 
morning,  noon  and  night.  When  we  knew  that  the 
war  could  certainly  last  but  a  few  days  more,  I  took 
hope;  but  that  something  was  louder  than  ever,  ding 
ing  my  boy's  death  in  my  ears.  So  I  was  not  greatly 
surprised  when  Elliot  came  with  the  news.  He  gave 
me  your  note  and  told  me  how  he  died — like  a  Gradley 
and  a  man.  In  your  note  you  said — I  have  it  under 
my  pillow — that  he  told  you  to  say  that  he  loved  me. 
God  bless  him.'* 

"Master,  he  told  me  more  than  the  note  contained. 
He  said  that  if  he  lived  to  get  home,  he  would 
acknowledge  to  you  that  he  was  wrong." 

He  broke  down  at  this  and  I  wiped  the  tears  out  of 
his  eyes. 

"He  didn't  owe  me  any  apology;  he  had  as  much 
right  to  his  opinion  as  I  had  to  mine.  Some  of  the 
noblest  minds  and  kindest  hearts  in  the  country  went 
wrong.  Don't  tell  me  anything  he  said  that  bordered 
en  an  apology.  He  should  not  have  apologized.  In 
my  heart  I  forgave  him  a  thousand  times;  and,  night 
after  night,  I  sat  in  his  room,  reading  his  brx>ks. 


299 

When  I  was  taken  down  I  had  them  bring  his  bed  in 
here  that  I  might  die  on  it.  Yes,  we  were  all  wrong," 
he  said,  pressing  my  hands.  "Dan,  lean  over."  My 
face  was  almost  touching  his,  and  I  trembled  violently. 
"You  know  the  hoof-marks  on  the  stairs — you  know 
that  I  killed  Solomon  Putnam.  But  you  never  knew 
why." 

"No,  sir;  no  one  ever  told  me." 

"No  one  knew.  Dan,  your  mother  was  a  beautiful 
woman.  Titine  reminds  me  of  her.  Did  anyone  ever 
tell  you  that  your  mother  was  handsome?" 

"Yes,  sir,  an  old  negro  man,  a  long  time  ago." 

"Dan,  that  scoundrel  offered  to  buy  your  mother. 
I  scorned  his  money  and  he  poisoned  her.  And  I  sent 
him  word  that  I  would  kill  him  on  sight;  and  he  rode 
up  the  stairs,  drunk,  to  kill  me  in  my  bed.  I  raised 
myself  up  and  shot  him — Dan,  lean  over  further.  My 
life  has  been  miserable  and  I  am — I  am  the  author  of 
all  your  misery.  There,  don't  pull  away  from  me. 
Put  your  head  on  this  old  breast  for  a  moment.  My 
poor  boy- — I  have  been  a  disgrace  unto  myself  and 
the  cause  of  your  humiliation.  But  I  have  loved  you 
and  have  shown  it  whenever  I  could  without  bringing 
a  cruelty  down  upon  your  head.  My  poor  wife — God 
forgive  me — always  strongly  suspected,  but  she  did 


300  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

not  know.  She  hated  you  and  who  could  blame  her? 
That  scoundrel  Bates  kept  her  mind  on  fire  with  insin 
uations — He  was  afraid  to  tell  her  outright.  A  thou 
sand  times  I  have  been  tempted  to  tell  her  and  beg  her 
forgiveness,  but  the  quality  of  forgiveness  was  always 
a  stranger  to  her  heart.  She  has  had  enough  to  harden 
he,r  against  the  world  and  I  am  going  to  beg  her 
for  mercy  as  I  would  beg  at  the  Judgment  seat.  Dan, 
I  have  no  money  to  leave  you.  The  farm  is  mort 
gaged.  All  I  can  leave  is  the  love  and  the  blessing  of 
a  wretched  old  man,  a  sinner.  Is  that  someone  at  the 
door?" 

I  opened  the  door.  Old  Miss  and  Miss  May  came 
in.  They  drew  near  to  the  bedside  and  stood  there, 
seeing  that  the  hour  of  parting  was  not  far  off. 

"I  was  afraid  of  some  sudden  shock,"  said  the  old 
woman,  and  she  looked  hard  at  me.  "Shall  we  go  out 
again?"  she  asked,  smoothing  back  Old  Master's 
white  hair. 

"No,"  he  said,  his  voice  feebler  than  when  he  had 
spoken  last.  He  motioned  to  her  and  she  sat  down 
beside  him.  Miss  May  was  at  the  foot  of  the  bed 
with  her  face  buried  in  the  covers.  A  few  moments 
passed  and  he  strove  to  talk,  but  the  power  of  speech 
was  gone.  Several  of  the  neighbors  had  come  to  see 


MY  YOUNG  MASTER  301 

him,  and  they  were  admitted  to  the  death-room, 
though  the  old  man  had  passed  beyond  the  border  line 
of  consciousness.  His  breathing  grew  heavier  and, 
toward  dawn,  he  fell  asleep.  I  stood  and  gazed  upon 
him  with  a  new  reverence,  a  strange  and  half  fright 
ened  affection.  The  revelation  did  not  come  to  me  as 
a  great  surprise ;  it  was  as  plain  to  me  as  to  the  reader 
who  has  followed  me  through  these  memoirs;  but  I 
had  not  permitted  myself  to  muse  upon  it;  there  was 
always  something  so  startling  in  the  thought. 

I  turned  to  go  and  Old  Miss  followed  me  down  the 
stairs,  and  in  the  hall  she  bade  me  wait  a  moment. 
I  stood  near  the  door,  in  the  gray  light,  she  halting 
near  me ;  and  her  eyes  were  dry. 

"What  did  he  tell  you?"  she  asked. 

"Madam,  for  mercy  sake  don't  ask  me  to  repeat  it." 

"Madam!"  she  said  bitterly.  "You  are  drinking 
your  freedom  fast.  But  have  you  lost  your  sense  of 
obedience,  and  at  such  a  time  as  this?" 

"I  would  rather  not  tell  you." 

"But  I  command  you." 

"Then  you  shall  know.  He  told  me  that  he  was  my 
father." 

It  seemed  a  long  time  before  she  spoke  again.  She 
stood  looking  at  me.  "You  have  been  the  humiliation 


302  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

and  the  bitterness  of  my  life,"  she  said.  "The  first 
sight  of  you  gave  me  a  shudder,  and  never  since  then 
have  I  known  a  moment  of  peace.  I  brooded  in  a 
doubt  worse  than  a  Certainty — I  could  not  find  out  the 
truth.  And  but  for  my  children  I  would  have 
drowned  myself.  Yes,  you  have  been  the  humiliation 
and  the  bitterness  of  my  life.  Now  go." 

"Yes,  I  will  go — But  did  you  ever  stop  to  reflect 
that  while  I  might  have  been  a  humiliation  and  a  bit 
terness,  it  was  not  my  fault?" 

"I  thought  of  nothing  but  my  own  shame  and  my 
own  bitterness.  G«o,  and  I  hope  never  to  see  you 
again." 

"Just  one  moment.  There  is  something  that  I 
ought  to  tell  you.  I  told  Old  Master  before  I  went 
into  the  army.  Young  master  did  not  kill  Dr.  Bates. 
I  killed  him  to  save  my  own  life,  and  Master,  knowing 
that  they  would  hang  me,  took  the  blood  upon  him 
self." 

"Then  you  shall  be  tried  for  murder!"  the  old 
woman  said.  "I  will  go  and  have  you  arrested,"  She 
turned  her  back  upon  me.  "Sam,"  she  called.  "Sam, 
where  are  you?" 

"Wait  a  moment  before  you  send  for  an  officer," 
said  I.  She  faced  me  again,  frowning.  "You  must 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER 

know,"  said  I,  speaking  as  kindly  as  I  could,  "that 
you  have  no  law  to  take  hold  of  me  now.  The  strong 
arm  of  the  North  has  freed  me,  though  I  opposed  it, 
and  now  it  declares  me  the  equal  of  any  man  before 
the  law.  It  says  that  if  I  am  innocent  I  shall  be  pro 
tected,  and  I  am  innocent.  You  could  not  have  me 
arrested  in  the  first  place,  and,  even  if  you  could,  it 
would  not  be  in  good  taste  at  this  time.  You  have  told 
me  of  the  bitterness  of  your  life,  but  I  have  not  told 
you  of  the  misery  of  mine.  You — but  I  will  charge 
my  misery  to  nature.  Good-bye,  and  in  all  truth  I 
hope  that  God  may  bless  you." 

I  stepped  out  upon  the  portico;  and — and  there  in 
the  growing  light  stood  Titine.  My  breath  came  with 
a  gasp  as  I  beheld  her.  She  looked  at  me,  looked  at 
my  tattered  feet  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"Titine,  I  must  now  say  good-bye  forever." 

She  looked  up.  There  was  heaven  in  her  eyes. 
"No,"  she  said.  "No,  you  are  not  to  say  good-bye. 
I  am  going  with  you." 

"What!"  I  cried,  almost  choking  with  emotion. 

"I  am  going  with  you.  I  would  rather  go  to  perdi 
tion  with  you  than  to  be  separated  from  you  again." 
She  caught  my  hand  and  held  it  and  I  stood  there 
trembling.  "You  told  me  of  your  love  and  now  I  am 


304  MY  YOUNG   MASTER 

going  to  tell  you  of  mine,"  she  said.  "My  soul  has 
wept  over  you,  and  in  the  night  my  heart  has  cried 
aloud.  I  am  going  with  you." 

I  put  my  arms  about  her,  thanking  God  that  I  was 
alive,  but  almost  unable  to  believe  my  senses.  And 
then  my  condition  smote  me.  "But  I  am  a  pauper, 
Titine.  I  am  a  penniless  tramp  and  the  dogs  bark 
at  me." 

"You  are  not  a  pauper,"  she  said.  "Wait  a 
.moment." 

She  ran  up  the  stairs  and  soon  returned  with  a 
pocket-book. 

"Take  it,"  she  said,  handing  it  to  me.  "I  have  saved 
it  for  you.  And  now,  let  us  go  away  from  this  deso 
late  place — away  off  somewhere  into  the  world  of  free 
dom  and  love." 

And  with  my  arm  about  her,  we  stepped  forth  into 
the  light  of  a  new  day,  our  faces  turned  toward  the 

rising  sun. 

***** 

I  sit  here  to-night  in  my  Ohio  home,  and  I  look  at 
a  portrait  on  the  wall,  enlarged  from  a  pfowder- 
blackened  photograph  that  I  brought  with  me,  when 
foot-sore  and  heart-heavy,  I  walked  from  Richmond 
to  my  desolate  birth-place  in  Kentucky.  And  here 


MY   YOUNG   MASTER  305 

beside  the  portrait  is  the  picture  of  a  monument  and 
an  apple-tree.  I  hear  my  daughter  at  the  piano,  and 
I  hear  Titine  singing  a  mellow  song  of  the  long  ago. 
It  has  been  a  night  of  company  at  my  house,  and  some 
of  the  younger  guests  have  lingered  into  this  late 
hour,  for  the  occasion  is  one  of  exceeding  cheer. 
Early  in  the  evening  a  committee  called  to  inform  me 
of  what  I  knew  full  well,  my  re-election  to  Congress. 


THE  END, 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9 — 15m-10,'48(B1039)444 


UNIVERSITY  oi  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 
LIBRARY 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRAR 


PS 


Read  - 


2679      ISy  young  mastort 
R22my 


000120528 


PS 
2679 


